On the Fence

History: Still One of the Nation's Worst Subjects

2011-06-15T06:21:00.002-05:00

We're Americans, thank you very much, and we like to forget. Ask students, either in high school or college, what subject they hate the most or find the most boring and, you guess'd it, most will grimace and say, "history." History is apparently dull as dirt. Who cares what happened, like, in the past and stuff anyway? Why should it matter to me?

If you haven't heard the latest education news, here's an excerpt from the Times. Perhaps we really do need more PhDs teaching history in our secondary schools. If we're no longer needed at the college level due to massive oversupply (and budget cutting), can't we at least make a contribution where it will really count?

U.S. Students Remain Poor at History, Tests Show

By SAM DILLON

Published: June 14, 2011

American students are less proficient in their nation’s history than in any other subject, according to results of a nationwide test released on Tuesday, with most fourth graders unable to say why Abraham Lincoln was an important figure and few high school seniors able to identify China as the North Korean ally that fought American troops during the Korean War.

Over all, 20 percent of fourth graders, 17 percent of eighth graders and 12 percent of high school seniors demonstrated proficiency on the exam, the National Assessment of Educational Progress. Federal officials said they were encouraged by a slight increase in eighth-grade scores since the last history test, in 2006. But even those gains offered little to celebrate because, for example, fewer than a third of eighth graders could answer even a “seemingly easy question” asking them to identify an important advantage American forces had over the British during the Revolution, the government’s statement on the results said.

Diane Ravitch, an education historian who was invited by the national assessment’s governing board to review the results, said she was particularly disturbed by the fact that only 2 percent of 12th graders correctly answered a question concerning Brown v. Board of Education, which she called “very likely the most important decision” of the United States Supreme Court in the past seven decades.

Students were given an excerpt including the passage, “We conclude that in the field of public education, separate but equal has no place, separate educational facilities are inherently unequal,” and were asked what social problem the 1954 ruling was supposed to correct.

“The answer was right in front of them,” Ms. Ravitch said. “This is alarming.”

. . .

History advocates contend that students’ poor showing on the tests underlines neglect shown to the subject by federal and state policy makers, especially since the 2002 No Child Left Behind act began requiring schools to raise scores in math and reading but in no other subject. The federal accountability law, the advocates say, has given schools and teachers an incentive to spend less time on history and other subjects.

“History is very much being shortchanged,” said Linda K. Salvucci, a history professor in San Antonio who is chairwoman-elect of the National Council for History Education.

Many teacher-education programs, Ms. Salvucci said, also contribute to the problem by encouraging aspiring teachers to seek certification in social studies, rather than in history. “They think they’ll be more versatile, that they can teach civics, government, whatever,” she said. “But they’re not prepared to teach history.”

The Dangers of Being on the Fence

2011-06-04T21:25:00.004-05:00

OK, so I'll freely admit that I started this blog over a year ago because A) I was torn between wanting to find an academic job and, at the same time, not knowing for sure if academe was really for me and B) I hoped to meet others facing a similar dilemma.

What have I learned over the past year? A few things.

1. There are lots of like-minded people out there, thankfully. I've always been an introverted loner who prefers to travel alone on occasion and sit quietly and not chat needlessly. Starting a blog was actually completely out of character for me. But I was sick of keeping everything bottled up: my angst about spending my youth getting a PhD, and digging myself into a major hole of debt, and my frustration about the uselessness of my degree. Once I realized (duh!) that I would have to beg to find a job but NOT look desperate, and that it would be nearly impossible to find work in my field, I realized what an idiot I was for having assumed that a PhD=gainful employment. How dumb am I? I mean, seriously, what was I thinking?

2. I am the most indecisive, flaky, weak-willed person on the planet. One minute I'm convinced academe is not for me, for various reasons, and then a few months later I'm flying all over the country interviewing for tenure-track positions. Why? Who the hell knows. Because I'm programmed to succeed? Because I'm deluded and don't know what I want? Because I'm a glutton for punishment? Probably all of the above. Here's an embarrassing old-school cartoon reference for you. In The Last Unicorn the wanna-be magician, Schmendrick, admits to the unicorn that he's finally achieved what he's always wanted, namely respect and power as a "real" magician. The unicorn says, "Does it make you happy?" His response: "Well, men don't always know when they're happy. But I think so." Why is that I still relate to this line twenty years later?

3. I've been on the fence primarily because I either don't know what I want to do with myself or haven't come to terms with it yet. (No, I don't want to pole dance or anything freaky.) But being on the fence is a dangerous place to be. You can jump off willy nilly, one way or another, at any time without thinking. I've interviewed for several jobs but rather than wait for a great nonacademic position to come along, I jumped off the fence the second a couple of academic jobs were offered to me. Why? Why did I jump off the fence right back into the shark tank that has (I think) made me relatively unhappy for the past decade? Who knows. Honestly, it's flattering to be wanted, to be sought after. Who cares why they want me. They want me! If everyone is fighting tooth and nail to get a slice of poop pie but then I'm offered two slices, how can I possibly resist?! That would be nuts, right?

4. Talking to other job seekers and PhDs looking to change jobs has helped me to come to terms with the fact that reading, researching, and writing (mostly quietly) is what many of us love to do. We love the life-long learning aspects of higher ed more so than the actual day-to-day grind of teaching and dealing with duplicitous administrators, whiny students, and backstabbing colleagues. But no one is going to pay us to be, essentially, a research fellow 24-7. We're lucky if they pay us to do anything.

5. I've accepted a tenure-track position and put all thoughts of alternate careers aside--for now. But I'm sill not convinced this is a happily ever story or that I've achieved the dream or whatever. I might just be delaying the inevitable. Of course, I'll try to shut up and just go with the flow for now but I refuse to completely succumb to the system and become a mindless, voiceless cog in the machine.

6. I've still got a lot to learn.

On the Move Hiatus: May-June 2011

2011-05-26T12:40:00.000-05:00

It's that time of year again for me folks: moving time. I've been moving from place to place for years now, so much so that I honestly don't know what I'll do with myself once I'm no longer packing my things up every few months. How do normal people, you know, live in one place? It boggles my mind just thinking about it.

But I've signed my contract and start working my new tenure-track job this fall, so for me there is one more major move to go and then hopefully I'll be able to take a break from all the packing and unpacking, at least for a few years. We'll see what happens.

Part of me, however, is really nervous about actually unpacking my things once I do arrive at my "final" destination this summer. I'm so used to leaving things in storage somewhere and only traveling with the essentials; I haven't put books in a bookcase or pictures on walls in as long as I can remember. Why bother? I've got pictures, books, DVDs, CDs, and framed prints that I haven't seen in years and years due to my (extremely modest) jet-setting lifestyle.

So, for me, this move to the tenure track is also a major change in day-to-day existence. I won't be buying a house anytime soon--I've got WAY too much debt--but I hope to at least be able to stay put for a little while. That's got to feel good, right?

Good luck to everyone out there in the middle of relocating or currently looking for work. I wish you an uneventful move or a successful job hunt, whatever the case may be. Since I'm on the move, this will be my last post for a couple of weeks.

Eliza

Choosing Between Job Offers

2011-05-10T07:21:00.000-05:00

It's that time of year--the end of the academic job-hunting season--and just about everyone I know who was on the market has either accepted a new position or is staying put in VAP or adjunct land.

Some are even walking away from the academy because they're sick of looking for a tenure-track job and starting to wonder how much more of their life will pass them by while they struggle to find academic employment. This has been a very disappointing season for many ABDs and PhDs who hoped to find work.

Even though I had finally come to terms with finding a non-academic job, I decided to give the academic job search another go and applied for six select positions. To my surprise, just when I was OK with walking away, academia sucked me back into its clutches.

I was incredibly fortunate on the market this year (for the first time ever) and actually had to decide which job offer I was going to accept and which one I was going to decline. I had no idea how to go about making this important decision because, like most of us, I was trained to say YES to pretty much any tenure-track offer extended to me. Having more than one option seemed unthinkable.

But it happened.

Here are the factors that I considered and which helped me to decide. Good luck to all those facing a similar dilemma.

Asking the right question about prep school teaching.

2011-05-03T15:47:00.005-05:00

As I mentioned in earlier posts, the decision to jump from the tenure track to prep schools is not always an easy one. As I have discovered to my peril, this is true from a practical perspective (I tried to jump but my feet seem glued in place) but emotionally as well.

The question to which I kept returning is, "Do I really want to teach at an independent school?"

I took this question to my dad, who recently retired after thirty years of teaching English at an independent on the East Coast. He knows the job, he knows me - who better to consult? He wondered if I was asking the wrong question, and suggested that the question I need to ask is, "Do I want to teach at this independent school?"

While this may serve as a testament to my dim-wittedness, I was floored. Of course I should not have been - it has been over a year since I rejected the question, "Do I really want to teach at the collegiate level?" as far too broad. I do teach at the collegiate level, but I don't like doing so at Regional State University.

Reframing the question put to rest much of the angst I'd been feeling, for I no longer had to make a huge decision without truly knowing what I was deciding. I could simply make smaller decisions as they presented themselves.

While this change might be a problem in the long-term - what if I never find the right school? - in the short term it is incredibly freeing. An interview no longer engenders an existential crisis, but presents a specific question. So it's not a breakthrough in the search, but it does help with the emotional side of things.

Good luck, us.

Waiting for the End

2011-05-02T21:09:00.000-05:00

Surrounded by piles of paper, not a contract in sight.

While Ben has continued interviewing for positions at prep schools, I've been waiting for the contract for my new tenure-track job to arrive in the post. These things take a bloody long time for no apparent reason. I realize that we're supposed to be patient, and let the academic machinery runs its laborious course, but I am definitely starting to get a tad impatient. I mean, christ, it's already May and I have yet to sign on an actual line (dotted or otherwise).

It's hurry, hurry, hurry, do you want this job? If so, act NOW! Right NOW! We want you!! Really, you do? How lovely; I'm thrilled! I accept!!! Do you hear that, world, I've accepted! Oh joy!

And then . . . nothing.

This is surprising given that I ended up with more than one tenure-track job offer and the universities in question knew time was of the essence. Still, moving from the verbal offer stage to the offer literally in my hand stage is taking 100x longer than I ever anticipated back when I started applying for jobs in the fall. The scary thing is that my job search began in September '10 and here it is, May '11, and I'm still playing the waiting game. Sure, it's unlikely that things will fall through at this point, thankfully, but I tend to learn toward the glass is half empty way of thinking. The proof is in the pudding. Until that puppy shows up, I'll remain on edge, waiting.

What truly boggles the mind is that nine months of my life have gone by while hunting for jobs and it felt, and continues to feel, like one big, exhausting, utterly stressful bad dream--despite the "happy" conclusion. I am so glad it's over but won't really felt relieved until I've signed and returned the sacred contract.

My word is my bond . . . I swear to work for you and teach the undergrads and produce whatever research I can and put up with difficult colleagues and play very, very nice, so long as you provide me with a paycheck and a solo office. That's really all I'm looking for right now, in addition to the contract. That and a stiff drink.

Additional Thoughts on the On-campus Interview

2011-04-24T08:05:00.003-05:00

As I continue my death-march through the prep-school interview season, I have been amazed by a number of things. First, how badly I have botched my first few interviews. (For ugly details see this post.) Second, how generous the people who have interviewed me have been in offering advice.

I recently found out I am 0-for-3 in on-campus interviews (bad), but got some additional feedback on my interview (good), which I'll share here.

The good news is that I appear to have avoided the rookie mistakes of my first interview. Nobody at the third school came away thinking that I was so desperate to leave my current Uni that I would take any job offered. The bad news is that I did not do a particularly good job articulating why I wanted to teach at that particular school. When the school's head asked me "What kind of school are you looking for?" my answer was about Independent Schools as a whole, not about PP. (In part this is becaurse I felt profoundly ambivalent about PP. I had to swallow my initial answer, which had to do with teaching in a progressive school, which PP ain't.)

In any event, to the advice I received. In a nutshell, Do your research. When I had campus interviews for nationally-known colleges and universities, search committees never wondered why you wanted that particular job. In their thinking, who in their right mind wouldn't want to teach at University of Chicago.

Prep schools are not so full of themselves as this. They wonder why you would want to make this move, not just to independent school teaching but to their school in particular. To do this, be as specific as possible. What is it about the mission statement that speaks to you? Why do you love their approach to education? Why do you want to be a part of that specific community? As one person put it, "They want to hear about themselves."

There are two good ways to make the case for a particular school. Most obviously is in your answers to their questions. When they ask you why you want to get into independent school teaching, don't answer! Tell them why you want to teach at that particular school.

You can also do this by asking school-specific questions. Don't ask generic questions about the curriculum, ask about specific aspects of the department's curriculum. When you meet with senior administrators, refer to the mission statement or strategic plan. They want to know that you know them and that you are taking them seriously.

So as this season winds down, I feel pretty stupid in making so many basic mistakes. I hope I'll do better next time, and I hope that you will too.

Good luck us.

Letting go of the dream

2011-04-14T11:38:00.003-05:00

As I sit, staring at the phone, wondering if I will receive The Call from a prep school I visited recenlty, I've had to wrestle (again!) with the prospect of giving up on my dreams. It is not my dream to teach in a prep school, and it never has been. But at the same time, it is not (and has never been) my dream to teach at a third-tier public uni, with a low salary and no money for research.

Now I know that very few people in the world have their dream jobs. As a group, lawyers are an unhappy crowd, and Lord knows my mother never said to herself, "I want to spend twenty-five years administering unincorporated areas of Tuscon!" And my wife has no earthly idea what she wants to do. The problem is that I am lucky enough to know what I want (to teach at a small college), but unlucky enough not to be able to do it.

I think that the hardest part about taking an offer is that as soon as I do, that dream - one which I have held on to for a quarter of my life - is gone.

I also worry that my reluctance to let go of the dream could warp my ability to see prep school jobs for what they are. Am I foolish enough to turn down a good position ("It's not the right fit.") in order to avoid letting go of the dream? That, it seems to me, would be the height of folly.

So let me ask you - how do you balance your lofty dreams and the crushing reality of the academic market?

What exactly am I getting myself into?

2011-04-07T10:45:00.003-05:00

While I do a lot of whining on this blog, I have to admit that I've got it pretty good. I teach a 3-3 load with two preps. I have been teaching my survey long enough that lectures take about ten minutes to prepare. This semester I started spending two mornings per week on a project unrelated to my job; while I'm a bit more harried, nothing bad has happened. Think about that - I reduced my working hours by 20% and I barely noticed. My career is a scam. I could spend hours every week pouring over the most recent Shakespeare scholarship, but in class we spend our time figuring out what the words mean, so there's not a lot of pay-off. (I imagine I will be taken to task for this admission. For the record, I'm not proud of this - depressed, actually.)

The point of this digression is that when I jump to a prep school, I'm going to have to do a LOT more work. But what kind of work? And how much? I had no idea. To answer this question, I did a number of informational interviews, and in this process I ran into two kinds of teachers. The first of these was "Mary." She's a biology teacher at a prep school in California. She said that she works hard, but it's a job like many others, just with a weird schedule. She attends school plays, athletic events, and meets after school with the student paper editors.

Then I talked to "Steve" the head of a prep school in the midwest. He painted a radically different picture of teaching. A "real" teacher works 70-hour weeks (including weekly tutoring all day on Saturday), has the skill of a surgeon, the patience of a saint, and the dedication of a martyr. His unspoken assumption was that because I took the time to get a PhD, I am fundamentally unfit for teaching. (I suppose that if I really cared, I wouldn't have bothered. (Bear in mind that Steve's description fits many boarding schools, but he wasn't at one.)

Obviously these visions of prep school teaching don't have much in common, and the disconnect gave (gives) me the heebie jeebies. I think of myself as hard-working and dedicated to my students, but I have no interest in working 70-hours per week for $55k per year, even if I do have summers off. So I dropped a note to a friend who recently began teaching at a prep school and asked him if Steve was right. Here's what he had to say:

Well, it's about half BS and about half true.

1. As far as I can tell, there is a cohort among teachers who believe that we are saints from on high who must dedicate ourselves totally to our spouse: teaching. We must never, ever say anything critical, do anything grumpy, or fail to work ourselves into little nubbins. We should be proud to be paid so little, because it proves we're doing it for love.

So, obviously, this is a load of poo. This is self-righteous justifying by people who enjoy looking down their noses. The best example is that YouTube video about "What Teachers Make" where the dude rants along (enjoyably) and eventually gets to "I make a difference." Yes, but that doesn't make you any better than anybody else.

2. The true part. Students want to know that you care about them. And they exist in a psychological environment in which they are convinced that the entire world centers on them. So they can be easily hurt, or offended, and you must be careful. Also, they are deeply touched when you exhibit some interest in their successes. It's helpful in the classroom when they know you care about them outside of the classroom.

You cannot just teach your classes and go home. Maybe after 10 years. Being a part of the school community is part of the job. But it's - honestly - not that big a deal. I advise a student club, and two or three times per semester I go to something. A football game, a play, a debate tournament, whatever. I try to go once to games for a team on which my students play. But it's fun, too. They give out ice cream and I see my colleagues and relax a bit. This is my community so I socialize with them.

And yes, people want you to demonstrate your interest in the school by "supporting" things. You might go to a game but you will also be expected to wear red and give a dollar and clap enthusiastically and all that stuff. High school students are very earnest. Fine. It's easy.

If all that sounds terrible, you should factor that into your decision. You said that the dream job was working at a liberal arts college, though. And such schools expect *exactly* the same kinds of appearances. At [small college] I went to debate tournaments, lectures, plays, performances, and art shows. It was about the same level of commitment.

Crunching the numbers, or taking the emotion out of career decisions

2011-04-05T13:59:00.002-05:00

Among my favorite non-academic activities is playing poker. I'm not great by any stretch, but I'm better than most people who play in person or on-line. I've also done a bit of reading on the subject (there's an entire literature, complete with the Fundamental Theorem of Poker, and ever-increasinly complex mathematical models). It is no coincidence that many of the top players in the world come out of finance, engineering, or other math-heavy disciplines.

One of the issues that all authors agree upon is that you should never make a decision based on emotion. Your gut might tell you something, but before you act, you need to crunch the numbers. When you bet, there are a limited number of outcomes possible, and a limited number of hands your opponent could have. One guy I play with, Lighter Mike, only raises with the very best hands - he bluffs 0% ofthe time. So when he bets, I know how often I am winning or losing.

So what if we apply this approach to the job search? You can modify this process based on your own situation.

If I stay in my current position forever there is a 0% chance I will be content.

If I stay in my current position for another year or two, there is a R% chance I will land a tenure-track position that I want. (R>0, but not by much.)

Okay, so what if I take the job I discussed in my most recent post? Here's where the math can help. The way if figure it, here's how the numbers break down:

X% chance that I like the school and the career, and stay forever.
Y% chance that I like the career but not the school, and I swap it out for a job I like
Z% chance that I hate the job and the career and forever regret leaving academia

Of these, the only clear loser in the long-term is Z.

There are two remaining challenges. First, of course is assigning numbers to these variables. If my own mind and the job marked were as easy to figure out as Lighter Mike is, we wouldn't have a problem. But we can try.

The second problem is that you have to factor in the long-term effects of these variables. We don't play Russian Rouletter very often because while the odds of losing are only 1 in 6, losing has a very steep downside.

And that, I think is the problem I'm having. The downside of Z is (or at least seems) so high, it makes me crazy with fear. I'm in my forties, and am thinking about leaving a career/job for life to do something I have never done. This is a young person's game. I can't stop wondering, What if I'm wrong?

You can't know, of course, you just have to shove your chips into the middle and see what happens.

Good luck, us.

Finding the right fit

2011-04-04T08:19:00.003-05:00

When you go on the acadmeic market as a junior scholar, the issue of "fit" rarely comes up from the candidate's perspective. Search committees look for "fit", but nobody (sane) has ever said to a candidate, "Don't take a job if the fit doesn't feel right." We are told: "Take the job you get." "It's your first job, not your last." Or, "Take the job and then write your way to a better school."

This is lovely advice for those who live in the distant past, but not particularly helpful today. Depending on your field, unless you turn yourself into solid gold, your first job likely IS your last, and you are not going to write your way to a better school.

I bring up this digression, as I am currently wrestling with the issue of fit on the prep school market. I recently returned from an on-campus visit at Very Old Preparatory Academy - the kind of place that counts Presidents and Senators among its alumni. They have pretty amazing faciliites, more money than God...and lots of traditions and rules. It just didn't feel like a fit.

My dad taught social studies for many years at a progressive (and elite) school. I remember that his classroom was a riot of books, maps, and student projects. Not here. At VOPA, classrooms had a whiteboard and framed posters. They were like a doctor's examination room. I couldn't help wondering how they would react if I piled books around my classroom, or grew my hair down to my ass. (I would not do the last of these, but I still wonder what they would say.)

So what to do?

My dad actually gave me one excellent piece of advice.

I made reference to your uncle being an unhappy as a progressive teacher in a traditional school. I think some people can pull off that, and some schools will allow a measure of radical dissent and even welcome the diversity (perhaps safety valve) that such divergence affords.

If VOPA offers the job, ask them about their comfort with your differences.

So, where does this leave me? Probably nowhere until I get an offer, if I get one.

But then the question I have (for you) is which proposition is more insane:

1. To take a job in which the fit is not qutie right on the assumption that I can use it get a position that does fit. (There is also the possibility that I will love the position once I get there.)

2. To hold out for a job that is a good fit, even if it means staying in my current position/extending the job search another year.

Either of these is completely nuts in an academic search, but what about prep schools?

Good luck, us.

What's Life Like as a Visiting Professor?

2011-03-28T07:23:00.001-05:00

Trying to decide if you should apply for a visiting position? Wondering if it's worth it to relocate for a temporary gig? For more on the life and professional prospects of visiting assistant professors, check out my latest IHE column, "Just Visiting": http://www.insidehighered.com/advice/on_the_fence/essay_on_the_flaws_of_becoming_a_visiting_professor

Kicked to the Curb: It Can Happen to You

2011-03-25T14:08:00.001-05:00

At least this curb has a place to drain your sorrows.

One of my good friends (let's call him Moe) is currently a visiting assistant professor--VAP--at a very large public research institution in the south (a.k.a. VLP). Moe has worked his little hiney off since graduating in 2007 and starting his job at VLP. He sincerely believed that if he did the ten following things, in no particular order, something good would come of his efforts, either at VLP or elsewhere:

1. Teach great classes
2. Win a teaching award
3. Publish journal articles
4. Secure a book contract
5. Network and play nice
6. Mentor and advise undergrads
7. Serve on grad student dissertation committees
8. Present papers at conferences
9. Schmooze with tenured colleagues
10. Generally be a pleasant person and say "Yes" to extra service requests

Moe has done all of these things and more. In fact, twenty years ago Moe would have been halfway on his way to tenure by now. Alas, Moe has discovered that his hard work is not really valued by VLP. VLP has exploited Moe as much as possible, and taken anything Moe was willing to give, but given very little to Moe in return, other than a paycheck.

At the same time, Moe has discovered that the larger academic world also has little time for him. It's true, he has received a number of AHA preliminary interviews over the past few years, and even a handful of on-campus visits, but thus far Moe has failed to attain the object of his desires: a tenure-track job. Other universities pretend to care about teaching (even the hard-core teaching schools) but have spent more time grilling Moe about research productivity and whether or not he'd "fit in" at a small liberal arts school, for example, than asking about his copious teaching experience. One school even rejected Moe over the phone and noted that he lost the job because he "failed to make enough eye contact" during his teaching presentation. This is despite the fact that Moe has won a teaching award and is, hands down, one of the most popular and hard-working professors at VLP.

What's worse, Moe was recently told by the department chair at VLP that although he's a great teacher and good colleague, he will soon be demoted from VAP to lecturer/adjunct status and will be forced to take a $25K pay cut and teach additional classes, including online classes, if he intends to stick around much longer.
When Moe complained to a tenured faculty member about his woes, this particular professor responded by saying, "I know tons of recent PhDs who would KILL for you job. They'd be thrilled to teach a 4/4 plus online classes for $25K per year at a good university. You should be glad you have a job." Another tenured colleague said: "Pretend like you're on a postdoc! Make the best of it!" Sure, like anyone on a postdoc is supposed to be teaching themselves into the ground at the same time. P-l-e-a-s-e.

Moe is pretty pissed off and bummed right about now and I don't blame him. The last time I talked to Moe it was 1pm on the Friday before spring break and he was ready to start drinking. Drowning his sorrows has become Moe's method of choice for stress release because, lets face it, hard work certainly isn't going to pay off. Why bother working hard all week, and even on the weekends, if nothing ever comes from your labor? Why indeed.

So for all of you out there who are considering applying for VAPs or would even dream of turning down a tenure-track job offer for a chance at a VAP at an elite institution, think again. You're just as expendable as any other contingent faculty member. Moe kicks academic ass yet he was still kicked to the curb. It really isn't fair.

Rookie Mistakes and Baby Tiger Syndrome

2011-03-24T09:40:00.007-05:00

I just wrapped up a really great conversation with the head of the history department that didn't hire me. (For the sake of pseudonymity, I'll keep the school to myself, but to whoever got the job: You got the gold ring, my friend.)

As the chair and I discussed my interview, it became pretty clear that my candidacy was doomed by two things: rookie mistakes and Baby Tiger Syndrome.

The rookie mistakes I made came in the teaching demo, and in conversations with administrators. My teaching mistake is that I came in to the class as if it were the middle of the semester rather than the first day. I'm a big, loud guy. I pace the classroom rather than stay at the podium, and when I get excited I exhibit mannerisms that look a bit like a minor seizure. By the end of the semester, my students are used to my shtick, and find it quirky and endearing. They also figure out that I raise my voice when they are right, not when they are wrong. But on Day One (and on the interview there is only Day One), it's weird and unsettling. Moral of the story: Don't unnerve the students. You're used to walking into a room full of strangers, they are not used to a stranger walking in and scaring them. If you are soft-spoken, or project warmth, no problem. If you project "tough" rather than "love", throttle back a bit.

My second mistake was in answering the question, "Why do you want to leave the tenure-track?" This is really important: They do not want to know why you want to leave the tenure track. They want to know why you are interested in teaching at their school. When they asked my why I wanted to leave Underfunded Third-Tier State University. I told them: The teaching environment sucks. My students can't/won't read. "Student Success" means not failing anyone. The humanities are treated as an inconvenience by studetns and administrators alike.

Big mistake. In my case this raised the question of whether I wanted to work at a prep school, of if I was just trying to get the hell out of Dodge. Moral of the story: "There are a lot of great things about my current job! I really like my colleagues and the department majors are wonderful. It's just not the right fit. Your school is." I'm not saying you should lie, but be aware that prep schools are unsure why anyone would want to leave the tenure track (ha!). If you don't make the case for the benefits you see in teaching at a prep school environment, you will crash and burn as I did.

This leads quite nicely to Baby Tiger Syndrome, which is defined over on Worst Professor's blog. As the Chair explained during our conversation, an administrator who is risk averse is not inclined to hire a PhD. There are going to be lots of very good candidates who can do the job, and will go twenty years without causing a problem. Simply by virtue of having a PhD, and even more if you are on the tenure-track, you do not fall into that "Safe" category. You could be a tremendous hire, to be sure, and they may say, "That's our next Head of the Upper School." But the chances are that for you to get a job, someone is going to have to take a chance. It is your job to minimize the perceived risk in hiring you. How you do that is up to you, but it's probably pretty closely linked to the rookie mistakes described above.

But what the hell do I know? I'm 0-for-Life on the prep school market.

Good luck, us!

My Job Search Tale: Let Me Off the Rollercoaster

2011-03-23T09:38:00.000-05:00

I've been blogging at random about my academic job search this semester but have not provided that many details thus far. Why? There are several reasons. First, the main reason is exhaustion: I'm pretty worn out after months of applying, traveling, prepping, interviewing, and waiting, and I haven't felt like reliving the experience at the end of the day. Instead of turning to the blog to vent, I've been reading novels or watching movies or surfing the net or talking to loved ones or sleeping or dealing with the habitual tasks of normal daily life. During the many weeks I've been job searching, I've also caught several nasty colds, all of which have me knocked me out for multiple days at a time. In essence, I'm burnt out, used up, and totally spent; I don't got that much to give.

The second reason for avoiding lots of discussion about the job search is my fear that I might jinx myself by, for example, making assumptions about the search process or my particular chances or, even worse, celebrating victory too soon. Talking about the whole thing in retrospect is much easier and I have every intention of revealing more details in a series of future posts. But I have a hard time expressing all of my angst in real time. I like to let stressful experiences marinate in my mind for a bit before I relive the moment by telling the tale.

My job search this year has been characterized by lots of ups and downs. One minute things seem great, the next minute I'm bitching to myself, and anyone who will listen, about the grave injustices of the academic world. I've had a job offered to me and then taken away, due to budget cuts, and then returned again at the last second; a job placed out of my reach because I didn't make the top three, only to find myself back in the running; and a job I never thought I'd get nearly fell in my lap, and seemed like a possible slam-dunk after the campus visit, but was then whisked away for good. As such, it's nearly April and things are still up in the air for me due to the craziness of the academic job market.

But I will say this: Sometimes the ups and downs can hit you on the same day, the same afternoon even. I was shown the door for one job at 5pm and then offered another at 8pm. That was one crazy evening. I spent the hours between 5-8pm rethinking my professional choices, wondering why I hadn't made a clean break with academe last year (when I started this blog), and pondering what it would be like to live a life of the body rather than the mind. (Pilates instruction perhaps? Gardening? Dog watching and grooming? There is a whole world of alternate careers out there for someone who is sick of thinking too much.) I also thought about how I had handed academe the reigns of my life, once again, and asked the ivory tower to guide me to my next destination.

After 8pm, once I knew I had a legitimate tenure-track offer on the table in an ideal location for my family, I felt numb more than anything. Here is what I've been searching for for months on end. I should be thrilled, right? I should be calling everyone I know and freaking out. But what I really felt, once the numbness subsided, was:

A) disbelief
B) a guarded sense of relief (show me the contract before I get too excited)
C) anxiety about the future

Now rather than rebelling against the system and jumping ship, or remaining on the fence, I'm about to yoke my professional and personal future to academe. I'm also about to accept an entry-level academic position for fairly low pay, relatively speaking, in an expensive part of the country. Now I will actually have to continue researching, writing, and publishing my book. I'll have to apply for fellowships and attend conferences, all on a shoe-string budget. I'll have to network and ass kiss to get tenure in 6 years time. I'll have to put up with demanding undergrads and stingy administrators and grade papers at night and on the weekends. During one of the worst job markets in recent history I landed an actual tenure-track job. I'm pretty freakin lucky. It's exciting. It's scary. It's a brave new world.

And I still have one more on-campus interview to attend too . . . The show isn't over until the fat lady sings or the contract is signed, whichever comes first.

Getting my head back in the game

2011-03-21T15:49:00.004-05:00

Okay, sorry about that last post, and thanks so much for the supportive comments. I read recently about a piece of software that keeps you from sending emails when drunk. I need one that keeps me from blogging when freshly rejected.

There is an aspect of the secondary search that I have been puzzling over for some months now, but have not written about it, less out of fear of appearing foolish than the fact that I had a question, but no answer. As you, dear reader, have probably figured out, one of the major differences between the academic and secondary markets is the timeline. By this time of year, all but the most tardy and muddled-headed search has wrapped up. (I'm talking to your employer, Eliza!) But secondary schools are just heading into the on-campus phase, and it will be another month before these positions close.

But there is a bigger difference than this, and here is where I become confused. In the world according to my Carney Sandoe rep, the vast majority of teaching positions have been announced. (These positions, it should be noted, are positions that schools have known about for the better part of a year.) To fill these positions, CSA had their big conference last month, and if your ship hasn't come in yet, the odds are very high that you'll be standing at the dock for another year.

But when I ask prep school teachers, I hear something completely different. Every one of them agrees that next month, a second wave of searches will begin. This is because schools are only now offering contracts to faculty for the 2011-12 academic year. Thus it is only now that some faculty will announce their retirement (or that they have taken the job that I had my eye on). As a result of these retirements/moves, there will be another set of openings in April and May (and even June or July). (Unlike colleges and universities, independent schools don't have to wait a year to fill a position. Got a vacancy starting in the fall? Fill it.)

The question then becomes, how do we explain the discrepancy between what Carney says, and what teachers say? If this second wave of jobs is a reality (and I'll keep you posted), why doesn't CSA go after those as well?

All I've got is an educated guess, and I'm happy to hear from anyone who knows better. My thinking is that CSA is powerful, but they work on volume. (Why? For the same reason Willie Sutton robbed banks: "That's where the money is.") They can handle the block of jobs that come out in January and February, and funnel them into their big conferences. These are the low-hanging fruit. But the spring jobs come out in dribs and drabs over three or four months. For a guess, they require more resources to fill, and are thus less profitable.

So both stories are right. Carney's season does end in March, but the rest of the world's does not. The pace slows, to be sure, but that doesn't mean that things are at an end. So even if you are signed up with CSA, keep an eye on the NAIS listings, for there may be jobs there that CSA doesn't handle.

And good luck out there!

Now your sample size is none.

2011-03-19T22:07:00.004-05:00

Okay, my half of this blog was going to be about my transition from the tenure track to teaching at prep schools, but it now appears it may be rather less informative and rather more depressing.

I just received the nicest, most apologetic rejection of my career. (And I've recieved over a hundred rejections, so that's saying something.) To make matters worse, I really loved the school, and they really liked me. But they had 200 applicants.

One year ago last month, I recived precisely the same news, also from a dream school. This hurts as much, and raises the very real possibilty that (for this year at least) the prep school market is not one whit better than academia. I mean if you don't get a job, who cares how many interviews you had, right?

So I've got one on-campus interview left at a school I'm having a hard time loving. And after that, I've got fuck-all.

Your Sample Size is One (On campus with Prestigious Prep)

2011-03-16T10:33:00.005-05:00

As I noted in my last post about on-campus interviews, I'm completely new to this, so take everything here with a grain of salt. Most of you know more about the collegiate process, so I'll focus on the differences between the two.

The most obvious difference between a prep school and (many) university interviews is that rather than a presentation of your research they will drop you into a classroom full of students and turn you loose. What they want/expect you to do will vary widely depending on the school, as will the amount of guidance you receive. Sometimes you'll receive a specific topic, other times you'll get little or nothing to go on. Some tips to make things go more smoothly:

Bring a baggie full of large name plates (the ones that fold into tents) and sharpies. As students come in, ask them to write their names. This will make it much easeir to call on students without resorting to, "You, in the blue sweatshirt."
If you are going to lead a discussion of some sort, make it a self-contained unit. Bring a copies of a short reading, and have them do it in class. (Better yet, have them read aloud.) You could try leading a discussion of the reading assigned by the regular teacher, but you're betting your job that the students did the reading, and if they didn't you'll be out there flapping.
Treat the class like the first of the semester. (No, don't go over the syllabus.) They don't know you, and don't know your shtick, so explain what you are going to do in class. Also, if you are prone to excessive enthusiasm, tread lightly. (I'm kind of loud and might have scared the 9th graders.) Be 80% of yourself.
Write on the board. (You might bring your own dry-erase marker for this. You don't want your class torpedoed by an equipment malfunction. Incidentally, what do you call it when a dry-erase marker runs out? They can't dry out, can they?)

A second issue to keep in mind is that department politics in a prep school can be quite different than a college or university. In large part, this is a matter of scale, and the significance of a single hire to a department. From a political perspective, at all but the smallest colleges, your arrival in will probably not be particularly significant. By contrast, at all but the largest prep schools you will be one of four or five people in the department, so your arrival will be tremendously significant.

For example, many prep schools are rethinking their AP offerings in the humanities, and some APs are on the chopping block. While you might not have much sympathy for standardized testing, and hate the idea of teaching to the test, these classes have been around for a long time, and inevitably have strong support among some members of the department. In a small department, your position on this issue will likely determine the future curriculum. As a result, the way you answer a question such as, "What do you think of the AP?" will shape the way different members of the department view your candidacy. My argument here is not that you should avoid answering this sort of question ("Gee, I haven't thought about curricular issues" will get you nowhere), but you should know why people care intensely about your answer.

Beyond this, the prep school interview will feel quite familiar. You'll get a nice dinner, meet a bazillion people, and get a bazillion different versions of the same questions (all focused on teaching).

And don't worry - you'll do great.

The Long Slog: Looking for Academic Work, No End in Sight

2011-03-16T09:32:00.000-05:00

This perfectly captures how I'm feeling right now.

So here it is, mid-March, and I'm still stuck in career limbo. I've been interviewing for tenure-track academic positions since December (!!) and things remain up in the air. At this point, after numerous phone interviews and a couple of on-campus interviews, as well as weeks spent prepping for interviews and then waiting uncertainly, I'm feeling tired, worn out, and increasingly numb. So are many of my job-seeking friends. We're all at the end of our ropes.

I started out this season in close contact with a group of about five other academic job seekers, all of whom (except me) are currently visiting professors, and only one of us thus far has been offered and accepted a tenure-track position. Depression and anxiety are running rampant and for several of my friends the game's already over. They played their hand and lost. I'm still playing but have no idea if I've got a winning hand. Only time will tell.

In the meantime I'm having a very hard time focusing during the day or sleeping at night. I'm not getting much accomplished as a result, and I'm absolutely sick of making new files on my PC with pages and pages of info. on each school/department. I feel like I spend most of my waking hours prepping and worrying. Prep, worry, prep, worry, prep, worry. Oh, and freaking out once in a while. I can't stand the uncertainty!

My job stats this year are as follows:

Positions applied for: 6
Preliminary interviews: 4
Campus invites: 3
Campus visits completed: 2 (I've got 1 upcoming)
Pending offers: who knows?

I had honestly hoped that things would be clearer by now, one way or the other, and that I'd be able to start making plans for next year. But, instead, I find myself just as uncertain about my plans for the fall as I was three months ago. The entire academic job search process is exhausting and frustrating; closure is hard to come by. The funniest thing is that I really didn't expect to find a job this year. Truly. I only applied for six jobs! (Because there were only six decent jobs in my field.) The fact that I ended up with three on-campus interviews out of six is pretty shocking. Getting an actual offer would be even more shocking.

But one thing I've discovered is that department's ran some of these searches not knowing there would be such huge higher ed budget cuts and now the positions themselves are in question. If I end up unemployed at the end of this semester it will be because someone else was a better fit or the funding for the position was pulled by the administration at the last minute. Either way, sucks for me. I'll keep you posted.

*Anyone else want to share their 2010-11 job search stats?

Don't Panic! (Er, okay, panic, but don't panic about panicking.)

2011-03-13T12:03:00.006-05:00

Okay, just back from my first on-campus interview, and here's what I learned. (Or at least here's what I think I learned. My sample size is pretty small, and the plural of 'anecdote' is not 'data', so the lessons here might not actually apply elsewhere.)

First and foremost, if you are a PhD thinking about jumping to a prep school, it's not unusual for you to panic, and wonder if you are making a horrible mistake. So far I have melted down twice in the last month. "I don't want to teach at a prep school," I complained. "I want to teach at a small, wealthy, liberal arts college, with pre-tenure sabbatical. Iwant to make $65k as an assistant professor, and $80k as an Associate. I want a 3-2 teaching load with no class larger than 20."

The problem, of course, is that I had fallen into the trap of comparing my real-world options with my fantasy-world options. I wrote a version of this elsewhere, but it is stil true:

I think that it is extremely easy to get addicted to being on the market in the way a gambler is addicted to searching for the Big Score. There is the anticipation as the jobs are posted/cards are dealt, the excitement as you mail an application/place a big bet, and the disappointment when you are rejected/lose the hand.

You might always lose, but there is also no reason to leave the job market or get up from the table. Why? Because there's always another hand to play or another year to apply.

The addict's challenge is to realize that while there is some truth to the saying, "You can't win if you don't play," it is almost as true to say, "You can't win if you do play." But the panicky voice in your head is only telling you the first story, and that story is for suckers.

So what to do when you panic? First, do nothing. Don't call your rep, don't email search committees. Just let the panic be. Then, breathe deeply, and remind yourself why you are making this move: You will have better students. You will make more money. You will have a choice where you live. You will be able to send your kids to an excellent school for pennies on the dollar. Repeat.

If you need to, to read this thread: http://chronicle.com/forums/index.php/topic,66956.0.html It was my original cris de coeur when I started down this road, and it might help remind you why you did so as well.

Then, have a drink or two. Get a good night's sleep. See where things stand in the morning. Have any of the things that made you want to leave academia changed? Have any of the attractions of prep school teaching (or whatever other career you have selected) diminished. Probably not. Then carry on.

Numbers and Thoughts about CSA and the Secondary Market

2011-03-10T11:23:00.006-06:00

I'm recently back from an on-campus interview, and will write on that soon, but I want to wrap up a few loose ends from my visit to the NAIS conference. First some numbers:

# of schools I could have interviewed with: 6 (ie. schools at the conference to which I applied)
# of interviews: 5
# of interviews a typical humanities candidate had: 2
# of interviews a typical math candidate had: 20 (no kidding)
# of invitations to campus I have received: 3
Average salary I could expect: $55,000 (PhD with five or so years teaching experience)
# of candidates schools bring to campus: 3-5 (yes, five)

Okay, what does all this mean?

First, having the PhD (and decent supporting materials) puts you head and shoulders above other candidates. While at the conference I met a candidate with a PhD in the same field as me, and she had about the same number of interviews. (Any on campus yet?)

Second, and perhaps in contrast to what I've implied in previous posts, landing a job is hardly a given. Obviously I'm doing very well (for a humanities guy), but one of the things at which I excel is coming in second in the on-campus phase of job searches. There is no reason to think that this won't continue.

Finally, I want to make a couple of points about the candidate's relationship to CSA. I want to be clear up front, that my CSA Representative has been extremely helpful. Thanks to my years on the collegiate market, I'm pretty neurotic, and my rep has put up with some pathetic emails and questions.

That said, you should always remember that you are not the client - the school is. Your CSA rep might like you very much as a person (or think you are completely insane), but he does not care if you, qua you, get a job. All CSA cares is that the position is filled by a CSA candidate. If it's you, that's great. If it's the woman who interviewed before you, equally great.

In other words, you are a prostitute, CSA is your pimp, and the schools are the johns. (I know this is awful to say, but if you have a better analogy than this, please let me know!) The pimp doesn't care which of his prostitutes goes with a particular john, so long as the john pays up and the pimp gets his cut. You don't have to worry about your CSA rep slapping you around (and believe me, I deserve it), but it would be good to remember where CSA's interests lie, and that in many cases they do not coincide with yours.

Next up - on campus! (And more neursois!)

Einmal ist Keinmal: Life as a Sketch

2011-03-07T09:41:00.000-06:00

The stage is set and the audience is waiting; are you ready?

In the opening chapters of one of my favorite novels of all time (Milan Kundera's The Unbearable Lightness of Being), the narrator ponders whether he would be better off with or without his lover. The problem, he realizes, is that we can never truly know what we want because we only live one life. Without previous lives to consider, and previous choices to learn from, how are we supposed to know what will make us happy?

"There is no means of testing which decision is better, because there is no basis for comparison. We live everything as it comes, without warning, like an actor going on cold. And what can life be worth if the first rehearsal for life is life itself? That is why life is always like a sketch. No, 'sketch' is not quite the word, because a sketch is an outline of something, the groundwork for a picture, whereas the sketch that is our life is a sketch for nothing, an outline with no picture. Einmal ist keinmal . . . What happens but once, says the German adage, might as well not have happened at all. If we only have one life to live, we might as well not have lived at all."

This is pretty profound, if depressing, stuff, and I find myself continually returning to the notion that we live everything without warning, utterly cold, taking life's developments as they come.

Consider an interview, for example. We do our best to prepare and try to imagine what the employer wants to find in us. We run through mock questions and scenarios, wear our finest interview clothes, put a lid on any unpleasant aspects of our personalities that might crop up in high pressure situations, and try to be on our best behavior at all times. The curtains open, the lights come on, and we're live. Act one, scene one. GO.

After surviving a number of intense on-campus academic interviews for tenure-track jobs this semester, it dawned on me that only once the whole experience was over was I able to figure out exactly what the department in question was looking for. I had to go through the motions and perform cold before realizing, often days later, what I could or should have done to cinch the deal. This is not just one of the many perils of the job search; as Kundera points out, it's one of the perils of life as we know it. There are no rehearsals or second chances. This is it. No wonder we have so many dreams in which we find ourselves on stage, completely (and inexplicably) naked, not knowing our part in the play or our lines, not having a clue why we are there or what the point of it all is.

In many ways those dreams are simply preparing us for day-to-day conscious reality. They're in place to give us a fresh perspective on existence. Interviews work much the same way. We do our best but it's usually not our actual best. We don't have time to practice, other than in our safe and comfy homes. (Not the same!) With a thorough on-stage rehearsal before the main event we'd really be primed to land the job. Instead, we just have to hope that our impromptu performance ends up being one of the best the audience sees during the rehearsal. That's why sometimes you can end up landing a job even though you know you weren't your best. Clearly, in comparison to you, the other candidates folded under the pressure of the one-shot role. That's why impromptu anything is always great experience for job interviews. So my advice for job seekers: get out there and go on blind dates or do something, anything, difficult and off the cuff in public. This is your chance; but it's OK to blow it. Sometimes. Happens to the best of us.

*Speaking of second chances, if you believe in that sort of stuff, check out my interview with Ann Daly, a professor who gave up tenure to start her career over, at IHE today:
http://www.insidehighered.com/advice/on_the_fence/interview_with_professor_who_gave_up_tenure_to_leave_academe

Carney and the Job Search, Continued

2011-02-28T14:56:00.002-06:00

This is the first of an as-yet undetermined number of posts about the conference and post-conference exploits as a Carney Sandoe candidate for jobs teaching at the prep school level. I’m still processing everything I leaned, but want to get some initial observations and thoughts up on the blog.

In keeping with an earlier post about the similarities between the secondary and collegiate job markets, I’ll start with the setting for the interviews. You know the “Pit” where many conference interviews take place for the MLA and AHA? (For those lucky enough to have avoided the pit, here is Daniel Kowalsky’s painfully accurate description from a CHE article:

The interviews take place in a massive convention hall which has been divided into hundreds of tiny, curtained cubicles. During the interview itself, you will hear swirling around you a symphony -- nay, a cacophony -- of voices identical to your own. If you don't know the answer to a given question -- for example, "How do you incorporate peer review into your teaching?" -- don't panic. In a moment or two, the answer will be supplied by a candidate sitting yards away, separated by that curtain.

Remarkably, the CSA meeting hall is worse: The tables are more closely packed together, and there are no curtains. Most horrifyingly, some schools held two interviews at the same table simultaneously: There would be two faculty members sitting across from two candidates conducting two interviews. I could only hope that the candidates were not applying for the same job. I never had the misfortune of sharing my table with another candidate, but without a doubt, the most difficult aspect of the interview was the noise. If the interviewer spoke in a soft voice, or if you had a loud-talker at a nearby table, half the questions were, “I beg your pardon?” At a few interviews, I found myself leaning across the table to hear a question, and half-worried that the interviewer might think I was coming in for a kiss. I should be clear that I do not mean this as a criticism – if there is a better way to conduct tons of interviews in a short time, I’ve never seen it.

The most surprising difference between the MLA and a CSA conference is that schools really do schedule interviews on site. When I arrived at the conference, I saw the table reserved by St. Prestigious Prep, and remembered that they were conducting a search in my field. I stopped by to chat with the guy sitting at the table, and found out he was the head of the middle school. It wasn’t ideal (I’m looking for an upper school position), but we talked for a while, and he suggested I set up a meeting with the head of the entire school for the next day. This would simply never, ever, ever, ever happen at a collegiate conference. The moral of the story is that my CSA Representative is right. If you want an interview, go ask for it. The chances are that you’ll get turned down – I was 1-for-12 – but all it takes is one.

As I said, more to come on this front, but right now I've only got time for small bites...

Best,

Ben

Money for White Men

2011-02-28T07:54:00.000-06:00

We're not racist/sexist, just great equalizers.

Have you ever wondered why women and minorities get (allegedly) preferential treatment from higher ed scholarship selection committees? No? Are you sure? Well, OK, as a historian and literate human being neither have I, but a new group based in San Marcos, TX, the "Former Majority Association for Equality," wants YOU to start thinking about the pressing issue of gender and racial discrimination . . . against white men.

Better still, they want you--if you're the right demographic--to stand up and demand the country stop treating everyone else (i.e., all those people with boobs and vaginas and dual airy fairy ethnic identities like "African American," "Mexican American," "Asian American," and the like) as though they deserve extra money while you, a historically privileged member of the white male majority, are no longer worthy of special treatment.

"The Former Majority Association for Equality" is a Nonprofit Organization that was officially incorporated with the State of Texas in March of 2010. Its mission statement is as follows:

Our goal: To financially assist young Americans seeking higher education who lack opportunities in similar organizations that are based upon race or gender. In a country that proclaims equality for all, we provide monetary aid to those that have found the scholarship application process difficult because they do not fit into certain categories or any ethnic group.

We have a very simple mission: to fill in the gap in the scholarships offered to prospective students. There are scholarships offered for almost any demographic imaginable. In a country that proclaims equality for all, we provide monetary aid to those that have found the scholarship application process difficult because they do not fit into certain categories or any ethnic group.

But FMAFE wants to assure you that they are NOT racist or sexist; they're simply trying to make sure that white males in this country get a fair shake. For too long white males have found themselves victims of forces beyond their control. FMAFE seeks to rectify that issue. Young white men, they believe, deserve better from a country that their elite white male ancestors founded to serve (only) their white male descendants. What's wrong with making sure white men everywhere can achieve their gendered racial legacy?

One obstacle that we immediately anticipate is to not appear racist or racially motivated. We do not advocate white supremacy, nor do we enable any individual that does. We do not accept donations from organizations affiliated with any sort of white supremacy or hate group. We have no hidden agenda to promote racial bigotry or segregation. FMAE’s existence is dedicated around one simple principle, to provide monetary aid for education to white males who need it.

So, are you a respectable white male in need of $500 for school? Contacted FMAFE and you might hit the jackpot. http://www.fmafe.org/Mission.html

Full Disclosure: Young white women are on the board, so you may or may not get fair consideration after all (you know how those people with vaginas can be tricky), but FMAFE does try its best to satisfy all white males who apply for funding.

Announcing On the Fence Relaunch 2011

2011-02-24T16:56:00.000-06:00

On the Fence is now officially a team effort, starring Eliza Woolf and Benjamin Harrison. We're both in the midst of major career transitions (more on this later) and will be updating the blog regularly.

I'm in the thick of an academic job search and might actually be starting up on the tenure track somewhere this fall, while Ben is in the process of transitioning out of the ivory tower for good. Just as I'm on the brink of jumping blindly off the fence in one direction, Ben is poised to jump with his eyes wide open in the opposite direction. Who is the craziest? Tune in to future posts to find out . . .

Regardless of where we end up, however, Ben and I plan to keep blogging about our experiences and discussing issues relevant to academics, higher ed, and job-seeking PhDs and ABDs. Thanks for reading!

A reader's question: Prep schools and job security

2011-02-22T07:52:00.005-06:00

I just received the following question from one of our readers, and (with that reader's permission) have decided to post it:

Dear Dr. Harrison,

I found your blog extremely useful. I guess you have not left academia yet, so you may know the answer to my question. I was wondering what job security is like at boarding schools? I realize that they do not offer tenure, but what is to stop them from refusing to renew a contract for a variety of reasons, i.e. it is cheaper to replace a more experienced teacher with a less experienced one?

Any thoughts?

Signed,

Curious in Cincinnati

Dear Cincy,

Good question! I know that the lack of tenure is one issue that gives some academics pause when they consider leaving (or giving up on) the academy. One of my colleagues here has opined that I'm crazy to give up a job for life. (She is a friend, so I took no offense.)

Honestly this is not a question I've thought much about, mostly because you're the first to ever raise the issue. I've interviewed a half-dozen PhDs who teach in secondary schools (about half of whom have been doing so for 10+ years) and nobody has mentioned job security as an issue, and certainly not in the way you describe it. (By contrast, I have heard rumors that Bennington College - who also don't have tenure - will occasionally clear the decks for cheaper, more junior PhDs.)

This isn't to say it's not an issue anywhere, but that I am unaware of it.

That said, your post raises a good question and speaks to the factors you should consider when searching for a school. First, pay attention to how long other faculty have been at the school. Some schools will actually boast that "On average, Prestigious Prep faculty have fifteen years' teaching experience and twelve years at Prestigious." That's a good sign. If there seems to be a high turnover among faculty, you should hesitate before accepting an offer. (That said, if you are looking for a "starter job" facutly turnover might not put you off - obviously people can leave!)

You can also look into a school's finances, both through annual reports, but also through the website: www.guidestar.org. (Registration is free.) It includes financial information on many non-profits, including endowment, operating budgets, and salary for senior administrators. If a schools got a lot of money sloshing around, they're unlikely to look for cost savings by firing senior faculty. (Warning: Guidestar can be a huge time-suck if you are at all snoopy.)

Finally, pay attention to a school's reputation. A place that has been around for a while, and has a regional or even national reputation for excellence is less likley to engage in these sorts of shennanigans than a newer school that might be on the verge of going under.

Good luck, and thanks for reading!

Best,

Ben

Countdown to Carney, Pt. 1

2011-02-21T09:11:00.003-06:00

According to my Carney representative, the last 48 hours before a hiring conference are the most hectic, so (as events warrant) I've decided to post more regularly over the next couple of days, and then once I arrive in DC.

So far, it's hard to see how things could be going any better. Forgive the bullet points, but I have to break down some numbers.

My application package has been sent to about a dozen schools across the country.
Nine of these schools will interview in DC.
I sent letters of interst to four of these nine.
Five schools have requested interviews.

So if you are scoring at home (or if you're by yourself) I'm batting 5-for-4, which is as impossible in baseball as academia. (As I said to a friend in the field, "Remember the year you had interviews with your top five schools? No, me neither.")

It's also possible that there are more interviews to come. I received a request to interview for a department chair position. (I declined it due to location and cost of living issues.) And more schools are registering for the conference and posting jobs. (Right now there are about 200 schools registered.)

Now, one reading of this is that I'm totally awesome. But I don't think that's true. I think that the correct reading speaks to the differences between the prep school and academic job markets. For college teaching jobs, a doctorate, publications, and years of teaching experience might not get you in the door. For prep schools, all of these make you stand out from the twenty-somethings who are looking for their first teaching gig. You might not get the interviews, but you will be noticed, and in my case my CV has clearly worked in my favor.

That said, I've been through the academic wringer too many times to think that a job is in the bag. Conference interviews won't necessarily lead to campus interviews, and campus interviews won't necessarily lead to job offers. But they're a start, at least.

When You Know You're in Good Company

2011-02-18T15:39:00.000-06:00

Suck on this.

I'm pleased to announce that, according to my blog stats page, a number of readers stumbled across this particular blog after googling the following phrase: "academic job market sucks." It's a sign of the times when a blog about the search for tenure-track academic employment, and various alternate career possibilities, finds fellow wayward and disillusioned PhDs and grad students through search terms involving the word "suck."

This is not something we should dismiss. Oh no, I think it's pretty clear whether or not some of us choose to jump ship now, later, or never, or whether or not we have degrees from Fancy Pants Ivy U or Rural Soul-sucking Backwater U, we're all in agreement about one thing: The academic job market does indeed suck, particularly this year. We may be the most educated people in America, and certainly special with our membership in the PhD club, which represents less than 1% of the country's total population, but when it comes to finding, or not finding, a tenure-track academic position, sucks is still the most appropriate word to spring to mind.

Speaking of which, Slate did a brief opinion piece five years ago on the word "sucks" that I think is especially relevant to this discussion. "Suck It Up: A defense of the much-maligned word" [http://www.slate.com/id/2146866/].

"Are you offended by the word sucks? Do you loathe the way it's crept into everyday conversation? Do you wish sucks would just fade away, like other faddish colloquialisms that were eventually discarded? Well, sucks to be you. Sucks is here to stay."

Why, what's so great about sucks? Why do we still turn to this word time and time again to express our deepest feelings of disappointment and despair? Because, as Seth Stevenson points out, "Sucks is the most concise, emphatic way we have to say something is no good. As a one-syllable intransitive verb, it offers superb economy." And poor bastards like us need "superb economy" now more than ever, since those of us on the academic job market are so damn impoverished after spending thousands on our education, room and board and other necessities for six plus years, not to mention airfare, lodging and registration fees to attend hiring conferences in our disciplines. (Where we sit in a hotel room with other employed scholars who ask us a string of random questions for 20-40 minutes before unceremoniously shooing us out the door and then, professional task completed, hitting up the bar for some shots and academic gossip.)

So think of it this way: the phrase "academic job market sucks" = "the academic job market is no good." It stinks, it's rotten, it's putrid, it's a raw deal. Sure, it sucks to be us. But at least we know we're in good company when other scholars feel, and speak, about the job market in the same way.

Gearing up for a Carney Conference

2011-02-17T09:23:00.002-06:00

One of the factors that can make the transition from the higher education market to prep school stressful (in addition to walking away from a career!) is the murkiness of the job search. Veterans of the academic search will be pleased to know that the prep school hiring process features all the opacity of higher ed, but with enough twists and turns to keep things fresh. (Think of it like the Coen brothers’ reimagining of True Grit rather than Gus Van Sant’s shot-for-shot remake of Psycho.)

First the opacity: As with any search, there is a lot you will never know. Will the school consider candidates with a PhD? Many searches are general – “English Teacher” – will they consider someone with your specialty? While these questions will come to mind, as in the higher ed process, you can’t know the answer, so don’t worry about it. (That said, if a department already has faculty with PhDs, you can at least know they’ll consider your application. Unless they've been disastrous in the classroom.)

Second, the timeline: As with many fields in higher ed, prep school positions trickle out over the course of several months. I received my first referral from Carney Sandoe back in November, but the action doesn’t really get started until February. It’s also worth noting that schools continue to post positions until late spring. Unlike colleges and universities, where hiring a new teacher requires fifteen signatures and an act of God, prep schools can move much more quickly. If a teacher decides to retire in April, they’ll hire a replacement in May of that year.

As with higher ed, the key moment in the process is the huge hiring conferences. These are run by CSA and by the National Association of Independent Schools (NAIS). Since I’m working with CSA, I’ll focus on their process.

About a week before the conference, CSA sets up a website where schools and candidates schedule interviews and send messages. While a dearth of interviews a week before the MLA can signal career-death, such is not the case here. According to CSA, most interviews are made in the 48 hours before the conference starts. This can certainly put you on edge as you wait to hear from schools (and wonder if you should check on the refund policy for your plane tickets), but it’s the nature of the beast.

If a school decides to interview you, they have the option of sending you an old-fashioned email, sending you a message through CSA’s site, or they can simply sign up for one of your open time slots. Whatever the case, schools drive the process. They schedule interviews and you say yes or no. (If you get an interview, take it. Even if you’re not sure you want a job, at least talk to the school. It’s good practice, and you never know what you might learn.) Most of the interviews will come from schools to which you’ve applied, but it is also possible that you’ll receive requests out of the blue.

Another difference between the higher ed and prep school markets is that you can apply for jobs at the conference, even if they are not hiring in your field. To someone fresh from the MLA this sounds like advice your mother-in-law would offer (ie. completely insane), but it makes sense because the hiring process is so different. Here’s a notional example:

Boston Preparatory Academy sends their Dean of Faculty to the conference to hire a Spanish teacher. In the back of her mind she knows that there is a good chance that one of her French teachers may leave at the end of the year, but none has made a decision. (Many schools don’t sign contracts until April or May.) While at the conference, the Dean receives a message from a CSA candidate with a PhD in French literature saying, “I’m a French teacher in the midst of a secondary school search, and am particularly interested in teaching at Boston Prep. I will be at the CSA conference in February, and would love the opportunity to learn more about your school.”

Because the Dean knows that a position might open up in the coming months, she goes ahead and schedules the interview. The candidate has a stellar resume, shows initiative, and it’s only half an hour out of her day, so why not? The interview goes swimmingly, and both candidate and Dean walk away feeling that it would be a good match. A few weeks later, old Mr. Smith announces he will retire, and the Dean says, “No problem. I’ve already talked to a candidate, and he’s fabulous.” Granted it’s unlikely to move quite this smoothly, but it does seem to happen.

As the conference gets closer, I’ll continue to blog about my experience, but at this point I’m just waiting for my first interview…

Good luck, me.

The Private School Market I: The More Things Change

2011-02-08T15:38:00.009-06:00

"What, you're still a mess?"

As I’ve wandered onto the secondary school market, I’ve been struck by both the similarities between this process and the higher education market. The first point of continuity is that the ritualistic aspects of the application process are virtually the same. I get up in the morning, and check the NAIS website to see if anything has shown up in the wee hours. Once at work, I check email ~~occasionally~~ constantly in hope of receiving an interview invitation. Then I check the job board again, and log onto the Carney Sandoe website to see if there is anything new there. In other words, applying for prep school positions is no less an obstacle to getting real work done than applying for college positions.

As annoying as this similarity is, even worse is the fact that that while the market is different, my neuroses are pretty much the same. I find myself agonizing over inconsequential choices in my cover letters: Should this be a comma, a period, or a semi-colon? Which will impress the committee most, Arial or Times New Roman? I convince myself that nobody will want to interview me. I convince myself that I’ll have to choose from five great offers. I wonder when I should buy plane tickets to the conference. I wonder when the search committees will meet. I wonder if I should call the department chair and ask when the committee will meet, so I know whether to buy plane tickets. I wonder if I can afford to live in Boston/San Francisco/Chicago/DC/San Diego. So for those of you thinking that the wounds left by many years on the academic market are easily healed, it may not be so.

Another similarity became apparent during a recent phone interview with Progressive Preparatory School, a great private school in _________. The interview went great (I think), and I hope to make the on-campus phase, but towards the end of the conversation, the interviewer mentioned that the school had received two hundred applications. At first I took this as good news – if a school as good as Progressive Prep dug my application out of so deep a pile, I must be doing something right. But then I realized that this also means that the competition for the good prep school jobs is no less fierce than the competition for a tenure-track college or university position. (In fact, there were fewer than a hundred applicants for the tenure-track job I have now, so in purely quantitative terms things are even worse.) As disconcerting as this is, it’s important to note that numbers don’t tell the whole story. As my interviewer noted, many of the other applicants are 23 year-old college graduates, and thus in a different category than a forty-something PhD. This is not to say that someone with a PhD is a better candidate – the degree will chase away some schools – but that schools will read your application differently.

On a final note, I’d like to suggest that anyone contemplating the PhD to Prep School route have a look at Brent Whitted’s article “Why I Teach in an Independent School,” published in 2001 in the journal Profession. Brent briefly discusses his decision to jump from a Canadian university to a prep school in Los Angeles, and outlines the ups and downs of prep school teaching. He points out that the pace of teaching is radically different – classes meet daily, after all – but he also emphasizes the joys of working with smart, ambitious students. If you have access to JSTOR, have a look. If you don’t, drop me a note, and I’ll see if I can find a PDF.

The On-Campus Marathon

2011-02-06T14:06:00.000-06:00

You're going to need more than this to survive.

Why is it that all on-campus interviews for tenure-track academic positions have to be complete nightmares? Most last a couple of days but let's say you're lucky and only have to be on campus for one day. It's still going to be a marathon. Survival of the fittest!

The entire experience could go down like this (assuming your flight isn't delayed or cancelled):
You fly in, presumably the night before the main event, and are immediately whisked off to dinner with multiple people. Sometimes they keep you out pretty late, depending on what time your flight landed and how long it took to get from the airport to the restaurant, and by the time you reach the hotel it's 10pm or later. You've got less than 8 hours before you need to wake up and wow everyone. So you make some calls to loved ones, unpack, lay out your interview outfit, go over your job talk, etc. and then finally pass out at 12am.

When the alarm goes off at 6am or earlier, you spring into action, get ready, and then anxiously look over your schedule for the day, which looks something like this:

7:30 AM Breakfast with grad students
8:30AM Interview with search committee
9:30AM Meeting with HR (where they tell you a bunch of crap--> all irrelevant unless you get the job)
10:30AM Meeting the Department Chair
12:00PM Lunch with Department Members (TBA)
1:00PM Meeting the Dean and/or Vice Provost
2:00 PM Campus Tour
3:00PM Job Talk
4:30PM Meet & Greet with Department
5:30PM Exit meeting with search committee
7:00PM Dinner

The interview day is guaranteed to last over 12 hours, but if you add the time spent going out to dinner at the end of the day, you're looking at a 15 hour day. That's 15 hours straight spent trying to be amazing, polite, witty and coherent; 15 hours where you're "on" non-stop, trying desperately to make a good impression on the 30-50 people you may come into contact with. Yikes! Not to mention time spent impressing during the dinner the night before or at the breakfast the next day or on the long trip to the airport.

The whole process amounts to an exhausting, painful whirlwind. And the worst thing is the waiting period once you've returned home and all the questions that run through your mind 24-7. How many days or weeks will go by before I hear something? Will I ever hear from them again? Did they like me? Was I the best candidate? Should I have answered that question in a different way? Why did I get the spinach salad at lunch?! I should have brought floss in my bag! Idiot!!

While you're waiting to hear back about the results of campus marathon #1, you're invited to interview at a different university. Oh joy! But this time they want you to interview for two days and give both a job talk and a teaching presentation. So you've got two back-to-back 12 hour days to look forward to and less than 10 days to throw together a new talk (because they asked for something entirely different than the first school) and a teaching presentation on a randomly assigned topic. You hope they won't notice that you're wearing the same interview outfit throughout the entire visit.

By the time you get back from visit #2, which was even more tiring than the first, you've got another email inviting you to a 3rd interview at faraway university and you've learned on the academic jobs wiki that the first school has already offered the position you coveted to someone else. Ouch! Bummer! Thus the marathons continue until, finally, there are no more invitations. You're spent and the job possibilities have dried up. Now you wait and hope and wait and wait and wait. The next thing you know it's spring, you're still unemployed, and you've gotten shit all done since January. You've spent the entire semester trying to find a tenure-track position only to come up broke, empty handed, behind in your research, and pissed off.

Welcome to the world of the academic job seeker!!

Guest Post: A Broken System

2011-01-27T07:18:00.000-06:00

If I had time, I'd actually teach you something!

A guest post by *Kate Kohler

A student I mentor confided in me recently that one of her tenured professors this term (FYI: I am an adjunct) told a class that she would be “spot grading” their papers. She was simply “too busy” and had “too many students” to grade all her students’ work. (The professor is teaching 2 classes with a total of 79 students – I checked.)

My student was rightly dismayed and, despite the fact that she is an above-average and conscientious student, felt unmotivated to excel in the course if her work was not to be taken seriously, or even read. A series of scenarios went through my head: Perhaps the professor should outsource the papers to India to be graded?
(http://chronicle.com/article/Outsourced-Grading-With/64954/)
Perhaps the professor should assign less writing? (http://chronicle.com/article/Writing-Assignments-Are-Scarce/125984/?inl). Perhaps the university should hire me full-time with salary and benefits since I make the time to carefully evaluate the work I assign students as an important part of my job?(http://www.insidehighered.com/news/2011/01/20/study_documents_pay_gap_faced_by_adjuncts)

I quickly realized I was once again stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place: not only did I need to advise my student with politic discourse (god forbid an adjunct trash a tenured professor) but I had to explain to myself at least why the university system is so broken that a tenured professor, who not only is under less pressure to publish but gets time off from teaching to do her research and writing, can assign undergraduates course work with no firm promise of mentorship or evaluation.

The reasons why the system is broken are myriad. They involve change through time (also known as history), as well as current economic and cultural realities. As a doctor of philosophy in history I find I can appreciate the change through time ironies quite well. I earned my PhD in the wrong time and place. Born in 1971, a decade that saw the beginning of the end of the post-war boom, I earned my doctorate in 2009 amidst reports of the crises in the universities and economic woes world-wide. My hope to follow in my grandfather’s footsteps as a professor in terms of job placement, salary, and prestige had become an anachronism.

Here is how I see the problems and a solution. Higher education has historically been a privilege of certain groups – early on clergy who had the time and institutional support to live a life of scholarship followed by social elites who again, had the time and financial support to devote at least a few years to academic pursuits. (Keep in mind one definition of academic is: “hypothetical or theoretical and not expected to produce an immediate or practical result,” which works for both social elites and the scholary in that order). This set the
tone for higher education.

The opening of higher education to a broader community in the twentieth century had myriad benefits for society: first by allowing minority and working-class folk into the hallowed halls where many of them used the education they gained for both practical and scholarly purposes, allowing a necessary breath of fresh air in tired academic power-structures and trends. Second, the opening of the universities also allowed a wider population to gain the kind of “critical thinking” skills so lauded – rightly so – by the powers-that-be as beneficial to economics, politics, and society.

Critical thinking allows just what it promises – “careful evaluation and judgment” of past, present, and future choices by cultures and societies. Problems arose however – critical thinking requires time and money -- to support a growing population of students and professors. It also created an educational bubble that is now untenable. Higher education became focused on raising revenue and maintaining prestige (which equals money) rather than academics and critical thinking skills. In terms of teaching this often meant that faculty were put between that rock and a hard place I mentioned – focusing on their traditional role as scholars and sometimes mentors or acting as excellent teachers of a broader student population.

The truth is that in the opening of the universities a larger population of students came ill-prepared for self-direction in academic studies or simply lacked the motivation and skills necessary to succeed in academic pursuits. This is not a slam on minority groups or students in general. Everyone should have the opportunity for higher education but we, as a global community, need to decide what higher education should entail, how to prepare students for that education, and how we can provide it given the “publish or perish” culture of tenure-track positions in U.S. universities.

I could write a long-winded dissertation on the ins-and-outs of higher ed (in fact, I did) but I want to get back to my main concern here: if tenure-track professors don’t have time to teach (and part of teaching is evaluating student work and helping students reach new levels of scholarship), what can we do? As an adjunct who had planned on becoming tenure track but has since swallowed the bitter pill of reality and is now quite content with a part-time adjunct position (my husband works full-time with great benefits) at a branch of a well-known state school, I have given solutions a bit of the critical thinking I was taught to apply to problems.

Here are my two-cents: At present about 70% of teaching faculty in the United States is made up of adjuncts who work part-time, piece-meal, and most often with low pay and no benefit. This creates a culture of “fast-food work” in college teachers and courses, although many adjuncts are both excellent scholars and teachers. Adjuncts are typically either trained professionals in a specific field or hold a PhD in their teaching
subject. The other 30% of faculty are tenured – which today usually means they have published enough peer-reviewed scholarly work in their field to be considered senior scholars. Aside from the problems inherent in scholarly publishing (http://chronicle.com/article/We-Must-Stop-the-Avalanche-of/65890/) and(http://chronicle.com/article/Pricey-Cost-per-Page-Hurts/48257/), research is important in keeping academics active and relevant to each new generation as well as creating more -- and often more advanced – knowledge.

It is not a surprise that many professors who are working toward tenure or prefer a life of research don’t feel they have the time and energy it takes to be a great teacher. Teaching, however, is one of the most important goals of higher education. One of my favorite quotations by G. M. Trevelyan sums this up: "Since history has no properly scientific value, its only purpose is educative. And if historians neglect to educate the public, if they fail to interest it intelligently in the past, then all their historical learning is valueless except in so far as it educates themselves." You can fill in your discipline, but the message holds true: what good is advanced or new knowledge if it is not applied to and shared with society at large? That is the role of a good teacher – to know and understand the scholarship and be willing and able to share it with a broader audience – an audience who does not have the time or skill set to decipher disciplinary trends and jargon. A good teacher will also teach students to find the time and create the skill-set of life long critical thinking.

Here is my proposal. Keep 70/30 split, hire professor-teachers (aka most adjuncts) with a contract and benefits, and keep the 30% of researchers to push academic fields ahead. Renew these positions with professionals and scholars but allow them to choose which track they enter and, if necessary, to switch tracks. In order to keep both professor-teachers and professor- researchers in touch with each other as well as the communities they serve, university-wide scholarly conferences could be held on each campus or system in which teachers and researchers would meet to share knowledge and pedagogy. Researchers could potentially work with graduate students as well to train them in the rigors and details of research and publishing.

Of course this plan has kinks, and economic woes would slow its development for now. I think my campus is moving toward this solution, however, and suspect many other will as well as adjuncts demand their due, students demand teachers, and scholarly publishing opportunities continue to dwindle. As a recent piece argued, however, universities should offer both practical and academic resources and strive toward both as goals. (http://chronicle.com/blogs/worldwise/saturday-night-live-floor-wax-and-the-life-of-the-mind/27745?sid=at&utm_source=at&utm_medium=en)

*Kate Kohler (a pseudonym to protect the innocent and the adjunct) teaches history at a major state university branch campus. She loves teaching history that is useful, fun, and interesting to those who hated high school history classes.

We Will be OK

2011-01-25T13:43:00.000-06:00

A friend of mine brought this great Salon thread to my attention today, "If I don't succeed in academe, I'll die!" and I wanted to pass it on to anyone who stumbles across this site.

http://www.salon.com/life/since_you_asked/index.html?story=/mwt/col/tenn/2011/01/23/academe

In a letter seeking advice from columnist Carry Tennis, a failed anthropology PhD seeking tenure-track employment has come to the following, heart-breaking realization: "I've given it everything, and I want it more than anything, but it looks like it will never happen." Ouch.

I can really relate to her predicament and self-imposed drama and feelings of inadequacy. We've all been there. This particular PhD and ex-academic is wallowing in despair, asking herself over and over again: Why, oh why, did I F--K up my life and waste more than 15 years pursuing something pointless? I should have just moved to L.A. and tried to become an actress, like I wanted to back in high school. Of course, her parents told her then that acting was an impossible industry to break into and that she would never be able to support herself. A PhD in anthropology, on the other hand, promised to lead to a rewarding and realistic career as a professor. NOT.

Intellectually she knows the race for tenure-track employment is over but she just can't let her dream die. Or, rather, she refuses to allow herself to move on and find joy in life. She refuses, on many levels, to accept the reality of her situation:

"The problem is that emotionally, I can't drop it. It's like having a painful sore in my mouth that I keep poking with my tongue -- all day, every day, I'm angry, bitter and heartbroken. I resent my husband so much for having what I can't get that I can barely stand to be in the same room with him, I'm so consumed with jealousy. The workload of a professor is far more brutal than many realize -- 60-hour workweeks are the norm, and actually you don't stop working over the summer, you just stop getting paid -- so my husband naturally has little time and energy left over for any housework, which naturally falls on my shoulders. And this ENRAGES me -- it's like I'm not just unable to get my dream job, I'm doomed to 1950s housewife drudgery while my husband does the important stuff. My resentment toward my husband is on the verge of causing me to leave -- and it's not his fault."

So what does the wise Cary Tennis have to say in response? In a nut shell:

"You are not one-dimensional. Of course you have academic talent as well as other talents. Of course you have a good mind and many skills. But where is your power? Where is your center of gravity? . . . You must be a free human being. That is your first priority. You do not have to be a professor. . . . You know what the situation is. You just have not yet marshaled enough concrete evidence, on a consistent basis, to counter these core beliefs that are ruining your life. I think you can do it. I think you can undertake to undo this set of beliefs, and that will free you to be a human being who can choose whether she wants to be an academic or wash pots and pans.

I assure you, nothing terrible will happen to you if you do not become an academic. To know this is literally to get your life back. . . . That is the most valuable thing of all, to know that we can be OK. That is priceless. That is my wish for you, that you will find a way out of this terrible, stifling belief that you must be an academic, that you will regain the freedom to dance and sing and fling elaborate gestures to the crowd."

I'd say this is pretty good advice; although it's a shame he didn't offer any perspective on the husband-housework dilemma.

The Private School Option

2011-01-17T08:15:00.000-06:00

What you may be up against.

Interested in leaving the ivory tower and teaching at a private high school? Wondering if Ph.D.'s are desirable candidates for prep school teaching positions or if making the switch would make you happy? Concerned that prep school kids will be little rebellious punks? Look no further.

Check out my latest Inside Higher Ed column, "The Private High School Option":
http://www.insidehighered.com/advice/on_the_fence/woolf_on_careers_in_private_schools

*I'd love to respond to your questions and comments, so please feel free to leave them either at IHE or here at the blog.

Off the Fence: Reflections on Nine Years of Ambivalence

2011-01-10T18:38:00.000-06:00

The first in an intermittent series of guest posts by Caitlin*

As the interview season gets underway and the ambivalent academic's thoughts slide again towards tenure-track dreams (knock 'em dead, Eliza!), I have accepted the offer to write a few guest posts as an academic who is now officially off the fence, gainfully employed outside of professordom, and decreasingly ambivalent about it.

I usually begin the tale of my aborted academic career at the end. I think most post-academics do, with the defensive assertion that we left by choice rather than by necessity. I've come to think, however, that this distinction is mostly--well, academic. Whether you left in the first year of your doctoral program or after gaining tenure, the decision to leave came down to the same calculus: you just didn't want it badly enough any more to make the sacrifices involved. What I have discovered as the months between me and my academic life turn into years is that I don't want it at all.

My c.v. will tell you that I have a doctorate in history in one of the more grossly oversubscribed subfields, and that my post-PhD career consisted of a VAP at an Ivy League college, a multi-year research fellowship, two chapters in edited volumes, some bad luck (and bad judgment) with journals, and a book under contract with one of the top ten presses in my field. Twenty-three conference interviews over four years, five on-campus interviews, one tenure-track job offer. The year I threw in the towel I had that t-t job offer (in a Right-to-Work state where my husband, a union organizer, was unlikely to ever find work) and yet another research fellowship 3,000 miles away. Both of which I turned down.

See? See? I had options! (Yes, yes, the lady protests too much).

What my c.v. will not tell you is that I was ambivalent about professordom every step of the way. I am sensitive to the charge that I am rewriting history here, and there is probably a little bit of this going on, but friends and family have confirmed the nine-year duration of my ambivalence.

I was (and still am) attracted to the mystique of university teaching and research. The prestige was appealing, also the idea of a job that combined some routine duties (teaching and advising) with some creative ones, and had travel opportunities more pleasant than a grueling salesman's schedule of four days a week on the road.

But there were major problems, too. I tend to couch my objections to the academy in terms of fit: round peg, square hole. For one thing, teaching never gave me a buzz--I admire education in theory, but in practice it just left me limp. For another, I couldn't stand academics en masse. I am very fond of many individual academics, but collectively they induce in me an extremely unpleasant combination of anxiety and boredom.

And perhaps most importantly, I had no burning research questions to sustain me. It took me a long time to face up to the fact that I simply don't think think very highly of most academic research in the humanities--mine or anyone else's. From its deliberately opaque style to the irrelevance of most of its topical concerns to a host of conventions as mannered as eighteenth-century protocol in the courts of Europe, most academic writing on history, art, literature, religion, and philosophy has run off the rails as far as I'm concerned. I know there are people who love this stuff. But it's not for me.

I also have objections to the academy that are less personal and more systemic. But most of this reads as sour grapes when it comes from me, so I tend not to dwell on it. There are others better placed to make these criticisms. In retrospect it seems obvious that prestige and lifestyle would be insufficient to sustain me through misgivings as deep as these. Yet somehow I persisted over nine years. Why? Answering this question has been a major part of my post-academic deprogramming.

Over my next posts, I will be writing first about the forces that kept me on the academic straight and narrow despite the mounting evidence that it was a terrible fit. I have a list of five as of right now, but I reserve the right to come up with others. Then I will post on my epiphany moment--actually, it was a series of epiphany moments--that helped me realize that the things I didn't like about the academic track outweighed the things I did like about it.

Navel-gazing? You betcha. I offer no general remarks--only reports from the front lines of the out-of-academia transition. I can only hope that my own mental turmoil--and the gradual cessation thereof--helps other tortured souls resolve inner conflicts, either through that shock of recognition you get when someone else articulates something that you've been feeling but haven't put words to, or that that almost equally illuminating moment when you realize that someone else's inner life is profoundly unlike yours. May self-knowledge rain down upon us.

*Postscript: Why I write under my own name (but only part of it):

I have been for some time participating in online and face-to-face communities of ambivalent and/or disaffected academics. I run a face-to-face group in my local area and comment in various blogs and fora. I am particularly fond of the Worst Professor Ever, Post-Academic, and VersatilePhd, as different as they are.

I do this under my own name. I do not use a pseudonym, because--for me, at least--the project of leaving the academy has been an effort to revive some long-atrophied skills in self-awareness. Nine years in the academy was nine years of stifling deep reservations about my fit there and the value I placed on the system itself. A stronger sense of *my* values and *my* wishes is my most precious achievement of the past eighteen months, and I use my name to associate those sentiments with ME, thank you very much! (No such thing as a unitary self, the theoretically-minded may sniff, and maybe you're right, but I can tell you that I am by now dead sure when I am doing something that is NOT a good fit).

That said, I would prefer that these self-absorbed ramblings not appear on Google searches of my name. It's just TMI for potential employers or landlords or whatever, so I tend to omit my surname and the proper names of institutions I am associated with. If you want to Google-stalk me, be my guest. It won't be that hard.

Good Luck to those with Preliminary Interviews

2011-01-03T16:24:00.003-06:00

We could all use a dash of luck right about now.

Since the annual AHA and MLA hiring conventions will be held this coming week/weekend, I wanted to send out positive vibes to all the anxious job candidates out there. It's a truly brutal year to be on the academic job market; and if you're lucky enough to have any interviews at all this month, you should be congratulating yourself for getting this far.

NB: I've got a few upcoming interviews and keep having to remind myself that it's a miracle I made it this far. Not because I'm "unworthy" but just because the entire academic hiring process is a complete and total crap shoot. It's random and unfair. (And, yes, I really do believe this.)

I know having a preliminary interview, or two or three, is a far cry from an actual job offer but it's a necessary first step on the road to tenure-track academic employment, if that is what you are in fact seeking. So what last-minute steps, if any, should you be taking to prepare yourself for these convention interviews? Based on personal experience and wise advice from others, I've got a few tips to offer in no particular order:

1) Dress professionally and tone down the bling/body odor/perfume/piercings.

2) Know where you are going and make sure you get there on time.

3) Be confident and friendly. Smile!

4) Prepare to discuss your research.

4a) Know your dissertation and/or current research project in and out and have 1 and 5 minute spiels roughly memorized. Also know where your research is headed over the next 5 years or so.

4b) Know how you intend to go about revising your dissertation for publication. If you're like me and have already started revising, explain how you've gotten from point A to point B.

4c) Think about answers to commonly asked questions: What's important about this project? What contribution are you making to the field? How did you get interested in X subject? Who are the major players in your field and how is your work different? What's your next project?

5) Prepare to discuss your teaching.

5a) Look over the original job ad and make sure you know how you'd go about teaching the courses mentioned. Design syllabi if need be and pass them out during the interview. Think about why you'd assign certain books. What lessons or skills would you want students to take away from your courses?

5b) Come up with a dream course and be prepared to discuss it. Make sure it's realistic in the context of the department's current curriculum and not already offered by another professor.

5c) Scan departmental offerings and see what courses they've got on the books. What could you reasonably teach right now; what new courses could you bring to the table?

6) Bring a pad and paper so you can take notes throughout the interview.

7) On the same pad write down in advance several questions you have for the search committee. Make sure you have some questions ready!

8) End on a confident and collegial note and avoid talking smack about the university or the search committee to others at the AHA. You never know who could be listening.

9) Also, and this is just a pet peeve of mine, please don't immediately get on the academic jobs wiki and start saying what assholes the SC members were to you, etc. You'll just make yourself look like an A-hole.

10) Enjoy the painfully stressful process and try to be yourself. You may need a job desperately but you're also a professional, right? You know what to do.

Good luck everyone!

FYI: Tenured Radical also has some excellent advice to offer job candidates on their way to the AHA and she has WAY more experience under her belt. Listen to her!
http://tenured-radical.blogspot.com/2010/12/tell-us-about-your-dissertation-and.html

*Updates:

1) I found the following IHE article about the proper attire for an MLA interview a bit over the top; the author's advice is better suited for an on-campus interview, in my opinion:
http://www.insidehighered.com/advice/2011/01/03/nicholas_on_the_importance_of_the_interview_suit

2) The news about the "serious crisis" in the history job market this year comes as no suprise to me. (I did predict this back in August in my IHE column "A Bleak Market" but apparently the AHA is only just now catching on. Go figure.) Yes, we are in a free fall and things are looking very bad indeed. Even more reason to prep your heart out if you've got an AHA or phone interview lined up.
http://www.insidehighered.com/news/2011/01/03/history_job_openings_fall_economics_positions_recover

Why Academe is Exactly Like a "Love" Affair

2010-12-27T08:55:00.000-06:00

Last year, around this time, I was pretty sure I wanted to be an academic. I'd applied for tons of tenure-track and visiting jobs and post-doctoral fellowships and was willing to move (almost) anywhere to "pursue the dream" indefinitely. My CV scorecard served as evidence of a career trajectory designed to fit snugly within the ivory tower. In fact, I'd already traveled around the world for over a year in order to pursue research and funding opportunities for my, uh hum, groundbreaking dissertation-cum-book manuscript, even selling my car to live the life of a vagabond academic and putting off making payments on my large student loan debt. Oh yes, I was a committed little thing.

But despite all that sacrifice and geeky willingness to conform to academe's arbitrary demands at any cost, I only had one AHA interview lined up for Jan. 2010. Only one shot to secure a history position for which I was ideally suited. And nothing came of this preliminary interview. Academe spat on my love once again and left me broken hearted and pissed off.

Is my heart all cracked and shriveled now like the Grinch's?

(*Granted, I did have a phone interview before the AHA and in Feb/March two on-campus interviews, but those interviews were for positions that were not really in my field. Landing one of those jobs would have been quite a stretch; so I wasn't at all surprised when my on-campus interviews turned out to be more cursory visits than anything else. They needed to fill quotas, apparently, when they decided to bring me to campus.)

Point is: In the years immediately following grad school, I gave my long-term, twisted relationship with academe my all but, like so many other poor suckers who want to be scholars for a living, just kept getting burned. By summer 2010 I felt like it was time to take a short separation before choosing to either break up with academe for good of my own free will or make a more serious commitment, bad treatment and all.

But I have an anxious personality by nature; it takes me a long time to make a major life decision, like breaking up with someone or something to which I've grown accustomed and/or attached. I had to take things slow and see how I felt about the trial separation. (Pretty damn good actually. Never slept better.) The trial appeared to go well at first--until I realized that making a huge career transition during a recession was really, really difficult and just as stressful and soul crushing as trying to find an academic job. That realization sucked. So I opted to continue on the same tired path for now, all the while knowing I would most likely be leaving the ivory tower in 2011 or 2012.

Hence this year I only applied for a handful of academic jobs and found myself resigned to rejection before I'd even sent the applications off. The love affair had grown stale over the past year and working on this blog, among other things, had enabled me to see that there were plenty of non-academic opportunities out there for someone with my skill set. I just wasn't that into it anymore.

But like any other unhealthy love affair, academe wasn't ready to let me go so easily. I ended up with multiple interview requests this year, despite only applying for 6 jobs and determining not to attend the AHA. It's the last gasp before the true death of this relationship, I suppose. (And now the anxiety nightmares are back.) So even though I have a 1 in 12 shot at four different academic positions this year, all in decent parts of the country, I'm convinced that nothing will come of it. It's not that I'm a total Debbie Downer, but I still believe that my path lies elsewhere. Probably. After all, it's way more fun being the one who does the rejecting. I'll keep you posted.

Is it just a Pyramid Scheme?

2010-12-20T19:59:00.000-06:00

Just when we were all feeling really chipper and optimistic about our future employment prospects in 2011, the Economist decided to publish an article called, "The Disposable Academic: Why Doing a PhD is Often a Waste of Time" (Dec. 16, 2010). As we prepare to ring in the new year, either with or without interviews to look forward to next month or the month after, do we want to spare a few minutes in order to dwell, once again, on the disillusionment often accompanying a doctoral degree? Do we feel like rehashing familiar territory in the days leading up to Christmas?

I'm pretty busy, actually, but what the hell, I've always got time to kill when the words/phrases "disposable" and "waste of time" are uttered in the same breath as "PhD." If someone is going to sum up my worst fears so aptly, why not indulge?

The PhD: another disposable item polluting the planet.

Here's a rather lengthy taste of the article, which I've quoted from in large chunks. Normally I wouldn't do such a thing, but I think this piece deserves wide circulation and discussion:

"In most countries a PhD is a basic requirement for a career in academia," says the Economist. "It is an introduction to the world of independent research--a kind of intellectual masterpiece, created by an apprentice in close collaboration with a supervisor. The requirements to complete one vary enormously between countries, universities and even subjects."

*Editor's Note: You've heard it before and now you're hearing it again. The PhD is just a basic requirement. It's nothing special. You may have spent 6-9+ agonizing years trying to finish the damn thing, you may have put yourself into debt and gained a ton of weight, but the doctoral degree is nothing to write home about.

"[But] one thing many PhD students have in common is dissatisfaction. . . . Some describe their work as “slave labour”. . . . Whining PhD students are nothing new, but there seem to be genuine problems with the system that produces research doctorates (the practical “professional doctorates” in fields such as law, business and medicine have a more obvious value). There is an oversupply of PhDs. Although a doctorate is designed as training for a job in academia, the number of PhD positions is unrelated to the number of job openings. . . . The fiercest critics compare research doctorates to Ponzi or pyramid schemes."

"But universities have discovered that PhD students are cheap, highly motivated and disposable labour. . . . Indeed, the production of PhDs has far outstripped demand for university lecturers. In a recent book, Andrew Hacker and Claudia Dreifus, an academic and a journalist, report that America produced more than 100,000 doctoral degrees between 2005 and 2009. In the same period there were just 16,000 new professorships."

"Proponents of the PhD argue that it is worthwhile even if it does not lead to permanent academic employment. Not every student embarks on a PhD wanting a university career and many move successfully into private-sector jobs in, for instance, industrial research. That is true; but drop-out rates suggest that many students become dispirited. In America only 57% of doctoral students will have a PhD ten years after their first date of enrolment."

"In the humanities, where most students pay for their own PhDs, the figure is 49%. Worse still, whereas in other subject areas students tend to jump ship in the early years, in the humanities they cling like limpets before eventually falling off. And these students started out as the academic cream of the nation. Research at one American university found that those who finish are no cleverer than those who do not. Poor supervision, bad job prospects or lack of money cause them to run out of steam. Even graduates who find work outside universities may not fare all that well. PhD courses are so specialised that university careers offices struggle to assist graduates looking for jobs, and supervisors tend to have little interest in students who are leaving academia."

*Editor's Note: What about pay, you ask? Surely a Ph.D. should increase one's earning potential over time? Well, not by much.

"Over all subjects, a PhD commands only a 3% premium over a master’s degree. . . . The skills learned in the course of a PhD can be readily acquired through much shorter courses."

*Editor's Note: OK, so the salary still sucks. But what about the love? What about the dream? Isn't it worth it to live the life of the mind 24-7? Hmm, maybe in movies? Maybe??

"Academics tend to regard asking whether a PhD is worthwhile as analogous to wondering whether there is too much art or culture in the world. They believe that knowledge spills from universities into society, making it more productive and healthier. That may well be true; but doing a PhD may still be a bad choice for an individual. The interests of academics and universities on the one hand and PhD students on the other are not well aligned."

"Many of those who embark on a PhD are the smartest in their class and will have been the best at everything they have done. They will have amassed awards and prizes. As this year’s new crop of graduate students bounce into their research, few will be willing to accept that the system they are entering could be designed for the benefit of others, that even hard work and brilliance may well not be enough to succeed, and that they would be better off doing something else. They might use their research skills to look harder at the lot of the disposable academic. Someone should write a thesis about that."

*Editor's Note: Someone should. But if they did, they'd be even more unemployable than the rest of us.

Irrespective, happy holidays from On the Fence!!

Is More Education the Answer?

2010-12-14T07:53:00.000-06:00

What do most unemployed people, who can afford to, do during a recession, other than constantly looking for work and submitting applications? They go back to school. Universities throughout the country are facing record enrollment rates this year, and administrators everywhere are rubbing their hands together, watching gleefully as money moves out of the pockets of students and their parents and fills their universities' coffers. In many respects, the recession has offered a boost to large state universities.

Professors, of course, are less enthusiastic; they're seeing enrollment caps go way up, students spilling out into the hallways due to a lack of seats, and email inboxes full of requests from desperate students begging to add their class. (They swear they won't mind sitting on the floor.) Faculty workloads are increasing big time as a result, as are costs of living, while academic salaries remain frozen and hiring lines are cancelled. It's certainly not a win-win situation for everyone. I doubt you find many professors thrilled about the prospect of yet more students, many of whom barely have a grasp of the English language despite being native speakers, signing up for their large first-year lecture courses. (Oh, yay, now we have to teach 125 bored and apathetic students about medieval Europe instead of 75? Joy!)

But the rhetoric in the popular media suggests that going back to school, or furthering one's already extensive education with yet another B.A. or M.A. or even a Ph.D, is, as always, the best way to weather a recession. Is more education necessarily the answer? For those of us with advanced degrees but lacking in real-world experience, the idea of returning to school might seem absurd. What's the point? Employers want to hire people with experience, not an extensive knowledge of Chaucer.

But what about for the average 20 something? Is it worth it for them? What do you think? Would you advise someone to go back, or stay in, school until the recession is "over"? Have you considered returning to school despite the costs and time required?

Nice buildings sure make you feel like there's a point to it all!

Here is what the New York Times editorial team has to say about it:

Editorial: New York Times

Published: December 13, 2010

College, Jobs and Inequality

"Searching for solace in bleak unemployment numbers, policy makers and commentators often cite the relatively low joblessness among college graduates, which is currently 5.1 percent compared with 10 percent for high school graduates and an overall jobless rate of 9.8 percent. Ben Bernanke, the chairman of the Federal Reserve, cited the data recently on “60 Minutes” to make the point that “educational differences” are a root cause of income inequality.

A college education is better than no college education and correlates with higher pay. But as a cure for unemployment or as a way to narrow the chasm between the rich and everyone else, “more college” is a too-easy answer. Over the past year, for example, the unemployment rate for college grads under age 25 has averaged 9.2 percent, up from 8.8 percent a year earlier and 5.8 percent in the first year of the recession that began in December 2007. That means recent grads have about the same level of unemployment as the general population. It also suggests that many employed recent grads may be doing work that doesn’t require a college degree.

Even more disturbing, there is no guarantee that unemployed or underemployed college grads will move into much better jobs as conditions improve. Early bouts of joblessness, or starting in a lower-level job with lower pay, can mean lower levels of career attainment and earnings over a lifetime.Graduates who have been out of work or underemployed in the downturn may also find themselves at a competitive disadvantage with freshly minted college graduates as the economy improves.

When it comes to income inequality, college-educated workers make more than noncollege-educated ones. But higher pay for college grads cannot explain the profound inequality in the United States. The latest installment of the groundbreaking work on income inequality by the economists Thomas Piketty and Emmanuel Saez shows that the richest 1 percent of American households — those making more than $370,000 a year — received 21 percent of total income in 2008. That was slightly below the highs of the bubble years but still among the highest percentages since the Roaring Twenties.

The top 10 percent — those making more than $110,000 — received 48 percent of total income, leaving 52 percent for the bottom 90 percent. Where are college-educated workers? Their median pay has basically stagnated for the past 10 years, at roughly $72,000 a year for men and $52,000 a year for women.

A big reason for the huge gains at the top is the outsize pay of executives, bankers and traders. Lower on the income ladder, workers have not fared well, in part because health care has consumed an ever-larger share of compensation and bargaining power has diminished with the decline in labor unions.

College is still the path to higher-paying professions. But without a concerted effort to develop new industries, the weakened economy will be hard pressed to create enough better-paid positions to absorb all graduates.

And to combat inequality, the drive for more college and more jobs must coincide with efforts to preserve and improve the policies, programs and institutions that have fostered shared prosperity and broad opportunity — Social Security, Medicare, public schools, progressive taxation, unions, affirmative action, regulation of financial markets and enforcement of labor laws.

College is not a cure-all, but it will certainly take the best and brightest minds to confront those challenges."

*Any thoughts or comments?

Why Being on the Academic Job Market Sucks: Part III

2010-12-06T13:14:00.000-06:00

Honey, it's for you . . .

December is here, snowflakes are falling, and pretty much everyone I know who has applied for academic jobs is anxiously awaiting news, whether good or bad, from search committees. We're checking our email, making sure the phone is plugged in, scanning the Wiki, watching the letterbox for rejection letters, and asking our friends and colleagues if they've heard anything at all. Many of us are also simultaneously buried under piles of student papers and exams this week and next, struggling to finish the semester before collapsing. We could all use a long nap followed by a stiff drink and a gingerbread cookie right about now. And maybe even some mindless TV as well. Why not? Haven't we earned a bit of R&R?

Rum, gin, whatever, just pour me some.

While we may imbibe more than our fair share of alcoholic beverages in the coming weeks, those of us looking for work will also be on pins and needles day and night, waiting for job-related news until the 11th hour. Why academics are destined to spend the entire holiday season checking their email/phone messages every hour and refreshing the Wiki is beyond me. Couldn't we just do the whole thing starting in January? Does the (mostly) bad job-market news always have to hit us in mid-December, putting a serious damper on our Christmas/New Year cheer? Is there anyone else who is simply fed up with feeling depressed about dwindling ivory tower job prospects every December? (Note to self: This is one of the main reasons I want to look for work outside the academy. No more miserable Decembers!!)

My partner and I, for example, started off the weekend feeling pretty good about life in general, until we learned--via the Wiki--that several of the universities to which we have submitted applications, and even additional materials, have already scheduled preliminary interviews. Bummer. Such news is to be expected, of course, in this highly competitive world, but it still sucks to start off your week with disappointment. I prefer good news.

But it's important to note that not every Wiki-based disappointment/rejection is entirely valid, either, because I know search committees sometimes stagger their invites to job applicants. So one can't, or shouldn't, immediately assume that the party is over because of a presumed Wikijection. It's unwise to presume anything. However, most of the time, if other candidates are receiving contact from the search committee(s) and you are not, that is a bad sign. Very bad.

I do actually have one preliminary academic interview scheduled for next month, so yay for me. It's not at my 1st or 2nd choice university but given that I only applied for a handful of jobs, I am really fortunate to have received any interview requests at all. I'm still hoping I'll have 1 or 2 more schools contact me this month, but I have no expectations. Besides, like every other academic job applicant in the world, I've gotten excited about a possible job and then ultimately been burned by a search committee whose members seemed pleasant and professional but never contacted me again after the initial, or on-campus, interview. Nonetheless, that's the painfully uncertain life of a job searcher in any field. You show them what you have to offer and hope it's to their liking.

I wish I could offer some words of encouragement to my fellow job seekers but I don't really have any false positivity to offer at the moment. "Keep on keepin' on," perhaps, or "just wait and see, 2011 will be YOUR year!," or if that fails utterly, then "better luck next year" (or the year after, or never). I am sure, though, that some, if not most, of us will end up landing academic or non-academic jobs in 2011. We need to work; we need the money. In these times of uncertainty, remaining flexible and open minded is the best option. I'm personally giving the academic job market another go this year because I want to see what happens. I'm already open to looking for work elsewhere. That doesn't mean, however, that my ego appreciates rejection and disappointment any more than it did last year (or the year before that).

A Dual Exit: An IHE Interview

2010-12-03T06:22:00.000-06:00

Interested in hearing why two members of an academic couple would decide to leave academe at the same time? Check out my latest IHE piece: "A Dual Exit":

http://www.insidehighered.com/advice/on_the_fence/woolf8

Questions and comments are welcome!

Highs and Lows of the Academic Wikiverse

2010-12-02T20:48:00.001-06:00

Gone are the days of waiting for the post.

I have no idea whether most of the readers of this blog are simultaneously on both the academic job market and the non-academic job market, or exclusively on one or the other, but I'm pretty sure that, either way, most have heard of the Academic Jobs Wiki [aka Wiki]. http://academicjobs.wikia.com/wiki/Academic_Jobs_Wiki

This little gem came into existence several years ago, when I was an A.B.D., and has provided countless hours of entertainment, excitement, misery, anxiety and horror for thousands of doctoral students and Ph.D.s across the country. So completely has the Wiki taken over the academic job market that search committee members now deign to post updates there too. [FYI: They also read it to learn what the applicants are gossiping about or what horrible, petty things they're saying to one another. The Wikiverse can be a cruel, cruel place.]

Those who read and frequently post comments on the Wiki [aka the Wikiusers] usually have a love-hate relationship with the group. They love knowing, almost immediately, what the search committee members are up to at any given university where they've applied for a job. They love feeling like the Wiki is helping lowly job applicants stick it to "the man" by granting anyone and everyone access to the inner workings of a hiring process that has remained shrouded in mystery, confusion, and, all too often, total silence--for decades. Now the tables have turned, they say; now the applicants have the power! Wikusers unite! (Even if the vast majority are still unemployed at the end of the day.)

Like many addicts, however, true Wikiusers also admit that they hate how much time they spend pouring over the job listings, frantically looking to see if other applicants have received acknowledgements or requests for writing samples or preliminary interviews or on-campus interviews or, dum dah dah dum, job offers. While normal people check Facebook or whatever first thing in the morning, academic job seekers keep hitting up the Wiki day and night, hoping for news or answers or rumors or false leads, anything that will breathe life into a tedious and ridiculously drawn-out search process.

Just give me one more Wikihit. Just one more! Please!!

The first year I went on the market the Wiki was like morphine for me, minus the fun times. I was on there 24-7. The thrill of knowing something, anything, about the academic job market and who was interested in whom kept me going throughout the hiring cycle. But I also found myself despairing when confronted with an inevitable Wikijection [i.e. when you realize that while other posters are advancing in the search process, the jig is up for you]. Wikijections are swift and brutal but they enable applicants to start the grieving process sooner rather than later, and believe me when it comes to receiving official rejections in academe, later is usually WAY later, like months and months from now or never.

I know it's (probably) wrong to pilfer the wiki and use posters' words without their explicit consent, but I'd like to close with the following comment on the state of the academic job market by a Wikiuser. It was just too good to pass up. Why not enable this particular A.B.D. to reach a larger audience, here or elsewhere? Besides, I've noticed that even authors publishing first-person or advice pieces in The Chronicle of Higher Ed, or blogging for the CHE, have incorporated wiki comments into their articles, so I'm certainly not alone in my pilfering. Wikiusers everywhere beware: anyone can read your words; anyone can pilfer; almost anyone, if they choose, can figure out your identity.

I have a grad-school friend (a single, footloose, continent-trekker moving from VAP to VAP) who likens it [the pursuit of academic employment] to professional baseball--you pay your dues in the minor leagues for a few years, putting up with job insecurity, low pay, and far-flung locales, and then you reach the "major league" of a t-t job. To which I reply that major league baseball is millions of dollars, five-star hotels, star-struck fans, and amoral groupies. [here here!]

Whereas a tenure-track job is $50,000/year [if you're lucky] to fight with colleagues, desperately suck up to childish journal referees as though your life depended on it (it does), and cajole mostly disconnected students in a place that you wouldn't even drive past [or use the porta potty at the rest stop] had you chosen any other career. And that outcome makes you extremely lucky and a superstar amongst your former grad-school colleagues.

For me (and I bet a lot of others), it started as some amorphous thing that I thought would be fun to do, and morphed into an unhealthy obsession. Now I'm frantically checking the wiki, desperate for the privilege of paying $800 to go to Boston and take a 1 in 12 shot at landing somewhere called Institute, West Virginia. I recognize that this is my own choice, but I do think the system is fundamentally broken.

NB: Originally posted under the "Alternate Jobs?" section on the U.S. History, 2010-11 Wiki page: http://academicjobs.wikia.com/index.php?title=U.S._History,_2010-2011&curid=16752&diff=123206&oldid=123137

Are you a current or former Wikiuser who needs to put the pipe or needle down for a moment and vent? Feel free to do so here.

A Post-Turkey Wake Up Call

2010-11-29T07:02:00.000-06:00

About this time last year I was anxiously awaiting responses from the various tenure-track, visiting assistant professor, and fellowship applications I had begun sending out in September '09. (I think I applied for a total of 7 postdocs, 10 tenure-track jobs, and 3 visiting positions.) Mostly I heard . . . silence. Then, a few days after Thanksgiving I got a call inviting me to attend a preliminary interview for a tenure-track position at the AHA in San Diego. Woo hoo. Go me.

Drop $1,000 for a 30 minute chat? Golly, I'd love to!

Thinking that, surely, this call was a sign of good things to come, I booked a flight, bought a new interview suit, and made other necessary arrangements to attend the conference. The whole kit and caboodle cost me about $1,000. And I'll be the first to admit that this wasn't chump change. Oh no, that $1K was precious money I would have otherwise spent on rent, food, and bills. But at the time I figured, what choice do I really have? Either I fork out the cash and take my chances or I bow out now with no possibility of landing an academic job. When it came to the history job market and my position as an insignificant peon in the greater academic universe, everything seemed so black and white. Either I put out and pay up or I get out. That's just the way it is.

As the conference approached I hoped to receive other invitations to interview at the AHA but, alas, I did not. Instead, I had search committees calling me out of the blue on speaker phone, literally, at 5 or 6pm the week or so before Christmas asking if I was available for a phone interview the next day at 10am or earlier. Yikes! Talk about last minute. (Let this be a warning to you, fellow job seekers. Whether you're applying for academic or non-academic jobs, you never know when someone will want to interview you in person or via phone or skype. It's best to be prepared for anything.) Other places skipped right to the chase, forgoing preliminary chats all together; they had secretaries calling to set up on-campus interviews way in advance, as far away as February '10.

It suddenly dawned on me around X-mas that while my AHA appointment card was shockingly, embarrassingly empty, particularly compared to my friends in other sub-fields with 4-5 interviews lined up, I nonetheless still had a few cards on the table due to the increasing numbers of search committees skipping traditional conference interviews. Hope remained alive.

Fast forward to April 2010. By then I had participated in 2 phone interviews, 1 AHA interview, and 2 on-campus interviews, none of which ultimately resulted in an offer. All of my efforts on the job market had come to nothing. (Although I did receive an offer for a postdoc shortly thereafter, so yay for small mercies.)

What is the point of this story? Well, only that while the future remains uncertain, this is the time when all the craziness begins. Right now. For many Ph.D. and A.B.D job seekers in the humanities and social sciences, the period covering the end of November through the first half of December is nerve wracking. You know that large universities and small colleges alike intend to hold preliminary interviews at your field's annual conference (AHA or MLA, for example), but with budgets tightening across the country, and searches frozen at the last minute, it's touch and go. Should you buy a plane ticket, book a hotel room, spruce up your wardrobe, and spring for a fancy new laptop bag, just in case you get a nibble? I did last year and it really wasn't worth it. But, then again, that could just be sour grapes on my part, right?

Still, of all my friends who also spent $1K to interview at the AHA last year, even those who had multiple prelim. interviews and subsequent on-campus interviews, here is the total # who netted a bonified tenure-track job at the end of the process: 0. Zilch. Not one. It turns out that none of us got our money's worth from attending the AHA in San Diego. But nearly everyone is prepared to do it all over again--this time in Boston.

As December 2010 approaches things are looking fairly similar for me, except that I only submitted applications for 5 academic positions this year, all of them tenure track. No visiting gigs or fellowships this time around. I'm tired of moving every summer, or every semester in some cases, and living out of a suitcase. So, too, are my family members. It's great to win fellowships or receive offers for visiting appointments, of course, because it means technically speaking you're "still in the game," but for how long? If you hop from one fellowship to another or from one temporary position to another without landing a tenure-track job for several years in a row, when is enough finally enough? What is a reasonable time frame in which to conduct, and conclude, an academic job search? 3 years? 4 years? More?

It used to be the case that Ph.D. advisors at excellent/good but not ivy schools told their students to expect to go on the market several times before grabbing the coveted brass ring: a tenure-track job. In the meantime it was expected that a new Ph.D. would continue teaching, researching, and, most importantly, publishing in some form or another in order to remain competitive for the next season's job cycle. If a job applicant failed the first or second time out, it was critical that she up her game. Otherwise, the party would soon be over for good. The pressure, you see, continues to mount the longer one has been "out." The Ph.D. itself may not ever expire, but the Ph.D. holder starts to look a bit warn out and rough around the edges after a few years. And search committees like fresh, sparkly things, or so I've heard.

Irrespective, I'm not gambling on the AHA this year. I'm not attending. If a search committee at one of these 5 universities actually wants to interview me, I am going to politely ask for a phone or skype interview. It would be nice to attract notice from potential academic employers, but I'm not holding my breath. Opening myself up, mentally, to the possibility of a non-academic career has really helped take the edge of the job market merry-go-round. I may be stressed about my professional future, but I'm not walking on pins and needles praying that someone will invite me to spend a thousand bucks to chat with them for 30 minutes about my research and teaching interests in a hotel room in Boston in the middle of winter.

Although, if the phone does suddenly ring tomorrow and someone asks if I'm available for a skype or phone interview at 8am on Wednesday, I will say "yes, of course." Then I'll put down the novel(s) I started over Thanksgiving break, smack myself a few times, and quietly freak out. I hate surprises involving interviews.

A Message from One Who Made It

2010-11-23T07:50:00.000-06:00

Guest Post by "Blunt Academic" (a pseudonym to protect his or her snarky identity)

I graduated with a Ph.D. 5 years ago, taught as an adjunct at a community college for a semester, landed a tenure-track job in the middle of nowhere, landed a better tenure-track job, still in the middle of nowhere, and am now on the market again looking to move up. I've worked my ass off the entire time and have never had to stress about whether or not to leave the academy. I'm in, baby, I'm in for life.

But even if things hadn't worked out, I would have figured something out and made the Ph.D. worth my while. I would have found work outside the academy and never regretted getting a Ph.D. Indeed, I wouldn't have spent years dwelling on the faults of the ivory tower, or writing tortured blog posts (sorry, Eliza), or looking for other angsty ex-academics to share my miseries with. I would have just gotten on with things.

So when I see Ph.D.s fretting about how they “pissed away their youth and finances” earning a doctoral degree, and are now totally disillusioned with the academic job market and vicious tenure-track world , I wonder what all the fuss is about.

I mean, it’s just money, right? Weren’t you following your passions when you applied to grad school? Didn’t you enjoy spending your 20s thinking and learning, surrounded by smart/crazy academics, free to explore your interests, rather than sitting in a cubicle day after day making widgets and earning money. Didn't you love the thrill of working with Professor DryBones?

I know your dream is to be me. Good for you.

Is money really that important in the grander scheme of things? Probably, you would have frittered away all that hard-earned, longedfor pile of money on iphones, digital cable, trips to Vegas, beer, hamburgers, knick knacks for the domicile, what have you, just like the rest of America. BORING. EMPTY. POINTLESS.

So what’s a little debt compared to the once in a lifetime experience of getting a PhD? Seriously? Why are you so bitter about everything? You made a choice: live with it. What’s there to be upset about? Grad school helped make you the person that you are now (even if that person is poor and a tad PO at the system and depressed, but that’s neither here nor there).

Sure, it’s nearly impossible to land a tenure-track job but them’s the breaks. Not everyone makes the final cut and, of those that do, not everyone actually enjoys the academic lifestyle. Because, at the end of the day, it’s still a job, like any other, not a magical prize at the end of a rainbow. So you either suck it up and make the most of it or fantasize about something better “out there.” The choice is yours to make.

Or, if you can’t find work as a full-time professor and are forced out of the academy, you do what you need to do: stop bitching and moaning and start looking elsewhere for employment. No point blaming others or wallowing in regret. Just get out there, find a job, and move on with your life. Let go of the past. Some of you just may not be good enough (or interesting or insane enough) to land an academic job, whether you've got a Ph.D. or not. I know it sounds harsh, but that’s life. It’s short, brutal, and unfair. More to the point: In the blink of an eye you and everyone you know will be dead anyway. In the meantime, why make such a fuss?

Your Friend,

Blunt Academic

(Editor's note: I claim no responsibility for the opinions expressed in the above guest post!)

When Your Loved Ones Don't Get It

2010-11-22T06:46:00.000-06:00

Now is the time: make a decision already!

"Why are you still torturing yourself about whether or not to stay in academe? Just make a decision, now; please let us move on with our lives. I'm sick of waiting, the kids and/or pets are tired of moving every summer, and your mom's concerned phone calls are getting really old . . ."

During this week of Turkey eating and family gatherings, why don't we pause briefly to consider the following: For every indecisive Ph.D. or A.B.D. currently contemplating whether or not to leave the ivory tower or quit grad school sans Ph.D., there must be a partner, spouse, parent, friend, child, sibling, or some other loved one who is sick of waiting, wondering, and living in a state of (impoverished) limbo.

Continuing to operate in the midst of seemingly perpetual ambivalence, torn between multiple paths, isn't easy, but for the people closest to us it must really suck. Their lives are on hold, too. Our toment is their torment. Either that, or they're just tired of listening to the same story over and over again or concerned about how much time and $ we've already sunk into our career paths. They wish we'd just make up our minds already and stop the madness. (Don't we all?)

And, no, I am not talking about current or former dissertation advisors here. They might lord over us 24-7 and pretend like our decisions impact their lives and reputations in some profound way, even years after we've graduated, but I'm not interested in their feelings right now. Let's focus instead on the people (and or furry friends) who usually get ignored, esp. in academe: the loved ones.

But what if they've got set ideas about what we should be doing with ourselves, based primarily on what we've done, or said we'd do, in the past? What if their vision of our professional future doesn't jive with our own? And, finally, what if the decision we're inclined to make will almost certainly impact their finances, view of us, personal comfort level, or geographic location in a negative way? What then? It's clearly not so simple as just deciding between A, B, or C career path if the people in your life have an investment in one or more of these options.

Having loved ones, even pets, makes things tricky. It's not just your career and personal happiness on the line; it's their's as well. It took me a long time to realize how much of my decision to get a Ph.D., finish the Ph.D., and stay firmly within academe after graduation was based on my perception of what I thought my partner, parents, and best friends would want me to do. I wanted to finish, there's no doubt about that, but why I didn't immediately start looking for non-academic work after graduating remains a mystery to me, even now. Perhaps because my partner urged me to think long and hard about what exactly I'd be throwing away if I abondoned the ivory tower without at least trying to land a tenure-track job. This tactic works really well on someone with an anxious personality, by the way.

Whenever I discussed leaving, or dare I say, quiting, the ivory tower for good, my loved ones seemed supportive but doubtful, like they wanted to but couldn't believe me. Or like they felt slightly sorry for me. They'd heard it all before, the back and forth, the "if this" or "if that", but I'd yet to make a firm decision one way or the other. (And look at me now! I'm still on the fence!! Don't you feel extra sorry for my loved ones?)

The sobering truth is this: People who know what they want and simply go after it, just like that, are so much easier to be around. You can make plans with those people; you can rely on them. They may not be as fun in an existential "what if" role-playing career game, but in real life there are certain benefits to being partner to, spawn of, parent to, or friends with someone who made a right turn, career wise, and never looked back.

So, this week, as we find ourselves around dinner tables, eating and drinking with well-meaning but often irritatingly opionated friends and family, when our loved ones just don't seem to get it, can we really blame them?

Academe and the Loss of Human Capital

2010-11-15T11:48:00.000-06:00

I heard a story on NPR this morning, "Flabby Skills Are Latest Worry For Unemployed," about the current recession and the impact of long-term unemployment (6+months) on workers' skills. "Any bout of unemployment can be painful, hurt your finances and derail a career," says NPR's economics correspondent John Ydstie. "But long-term unemployment is particularly damaging, both to the individual and the economy. One thing that can happen is that the skills workers possess, their 'human capital' in economics jargon, begins to erode."

So what exactly is human capital? According to one basic definition, it's "the set of skills which an employee acquires through education, training, and on-the-job experience, and which increase that employee's value in the marketplace." If you're unemployed for many months, your industry can simply "leave you behind"; some of your skills may even become obsolete. "And the losses can be significant and real harmful for both individual and economies," notes Ydstie. Moreover, "because of falling home prices, many Americans can't afford to move to get a new job. So they remain unemployed or trapped in jobs that aren't taking full advantage of their skills."

There's more ~~human~~ capital in my couch.

As I was listening to this story, I couldn't help but think about my own predicament as a, more or less, long-term un/under-employed Ph.D. If research fellowships here and there are removed from the mix, I have not held an actual teaching position in my field since 2007, when I was still in graduate school and working as a TA/lecturer. That is a very long time. I have also not held a full-time, non-academic (and relatively low paying) job since 2001. In terms of on-the-job experience, whether in the ivory tower or elsewhere, my human capital is crap.

But what about education and training? I have a Ph.D. and a string of fellowships--that should count for something, right? Um, no, not really. If I were to apply for a tenure-track teaching job at a liberal arts college or a state university, the first thing a search committee would (or should) notice is my lack of recent teaching experience. Although I supported myself through grad school by teaching or TAing multiple classes nearly every semester (and summer), at this point it's been a while since I was in the classroom. This gap could make SCs wary about my ability to hit the ground running next fall and not freak out when faced with a 3/3 teaching load.

SCs at R1s, on the other hand, may not care about the years I've spent doing research and writing rather than teaching post-Ph.D. They might see this as a bonus. It's hard to tell. But since most of the jobs in my particular subfield are more teaching oriented this year, I doubt I'll be as competitive as someone who graduated in 2009 and has since published a couple articles and worked as a visiting professor at a top 20 liberal arts college, for example. Only time will tell.

Then there are the non-academic employers out there. What would they think about my resume? While I may have spent the last decade earning a high-level degree, teaching, writing, researching, etc., none of that necessarily translates well or easily in another field. And fellowships? Forget about them. Who cares if I received a postdoctoral research grant from Harvard or Yale if I'm now applying for a job as an editor or a communications specialist or an academic administrator? My resume suggests, rightly so, that I've been out of "work" for a while now. Despite my skill set and potential for success, hiring me would be a gamble compared to another applicant with recent hands-on job experience and a professional narrative that builds towards X position in a meaningful and straightforward way.

The point of all this pondering, I think, is that I'm honestly concerned that my choice to become an academic, and tread water in postdoc land since graduation, may result in dramatic, long-term (negative) professional repercussions. As more post-Ph.D. time passes and my degree begins to look stale, I may never be able to land a tenure-track job. (Whether I really want one is another post entirely . . .) On the other hand, I may also fail to find a decent non-academic position in the next year, due to the recession, my declining human capital, and the fact that I'd be making a career transition out of academe and into something new.

During a recession it's more obvious, both to employers and employees alike, what isn't valuable than what is. For those of us out there job hunting with Ph.D.s in humanities fields, finding, broadcasting, and, if need be, translating our value to potential employers should be our top priority. We don't have time to waste: getting all flabby is a big professional no-no.

I'd like the Daring Bitch, Please

2010-11-11T06:42:00.000-06:00

Why is your book still in production?

She is an aggressive supporter of colleagues, a confident, daring team player, and a nurturing bitch.

(http://www.insidehighered.com/news/2010/11/10/letters)

According to an Inside Higher Ed news piece published yesterday, "Too Nice to Land a Job", when referees write letters in support of A.B.Ds and Ph.D.s applying for tenure-track academic positions, they better not make the mistake of describing their former students in gendered, communal (i.e. feminized) terms, such as "supportive," "caring" or "sensitive." In the minds of the search committee members surveyed by a research team at an unidentified research university, it's far better for a potential colleague to be described in active terms as "aggressive," "assertive" and "daring," even if the candidate in question boasts academic credentials similar to those of an applicant characterized as talented and "caring." (The research was supported by the National Science Foundation and published in the Journal of Applied Psychology.)

"She's as sweet as ooey, gooey cherry pie, a feel-good lecturer, and a multitasking, yet sensitive, workaholic."

"He's amazingly productive and totally dedicated to his work yet always sensitive to the needs of his colleagues, a real team player."

NO NO NO. Cast these two applicants into the bin!! We will not have them in our nest of vipers.

No one, apparently, wants to let a warm and fuzzy house mom, or a sensitive house dad, into the awaiting halls of academe. Instead, search committees are looking to fill their coveted faculty slots with cold, hard bitches. Or, rather, to be more precise, they're looking for both men and women who act, and sound, like dominant, masculine types. Team players be damned. We want cocky high achievers; daring and independent bastards. If you're a woman, you better be willing to do the dirty work necessary to be a successful academic, otherwise we want nothing to do with you. Are you listening? You better be, bitch.

If you can't get your tenure file in on time, no more Mr. Nice Guy.

"The research found no difference between men and women as letter writers -- both are more likely to describe women with communal words than they are to describe men that way. And the bias appears to act against male candidates who are praised for traits people associate with women. But a much higher proportion of female candidates -- regardless of their overall qualifications -- are praised with these words that appear to hurt their chances of being hired for faculty jobs.

In the scholars' analysis of the words that appeared in the letters of recommendation, they found clear patterns of word use for women's and men's letters. Women were more likely to be described . . . as "nurturing," "kind," "agreeable" and "warm." Men, in contrast, were much more likely to be described in words classified as "agentive" -- words such as "assertive," "confident," "aggressive," "ambitious," "independent" and "daring."

"When you use communal terminology, it is linking people to a feminine type, and they are not seen as credible and they don't get hired', said Michelle Hebl, a professor of psychology at Rice University and one of the authors of the study . . ."'

(Editor's note: In case you missed that last point, please let me spell it out again: Feminine types are NOT credible and don't get hired.)

"Hebl said that women in academe face a dilemma. Hiring committees appear to devalue women who are identified as people who would be nice or supportive colleagues. But women who aren't seen as nice and supportive "get called bitches," she said. So the solution for women is "to have both sets of qualities" -- the communal and the agentive."

(Editor's Note: Being called a "bitch" is a very bad thing in academe. But so is being a sensitive Suzy. What's a girl to do?)

I could write more here about the injustice of it all. By why bother? I'm too busy putting on spandex and coiling my whip about my hip, you know, in case I get called in for a preliminary interview. I want to make it crystal clear that, while I'm not a bitch, per se, I do in fact belong in that nasty viper nest and am fully prepared to whip those other sensitive and caring tenure-track weaklings into shape if need be. Bring it on.

I'm not a bitch, you sensitive thing, just a confident & daring academic.

Making the Switch: Q&A with Benjamin Harrison

2010-11-09T06:59:00.000-06:00

When Ph.D.’s contemplate leaving academe because they either cannot find a tenure-track job or are dissatisfied with their current academic position, location, salary, etc., many turn to elite private-school teaching. For those who truly enjoy teaching and interacting with young people, working at a prep school is an understandable, and realistic, alternate career option. Unlike public schools, private schools generally do not require certification; demonstrating subject matter expertise is easily accomplished with a doctoral degree.

Private secondary schools are open to the prospect of hiring Ph.D.s, so long as they have teaching experience and are able to avoid the common pitfalls of appearing arrogant or anything less than passionate about working with adolescents. I spoke with Benjamin Harrison, whom regular readers may know as an assistant professor of history currently making the transition to private school teaching, about his background and interests in making the switch.

Q. Can you describe your current academic position and tell us how you got there?

I received my Ph.D. in a humanities field from a medium-sized university in the mid-west. After completing my degree I worked as a Visiting Assistant Professor at a small college before landing my current tenure-track position at a non-flagship state university. Like many in the humanities, I largely took this position because it was the one I was offered, but it also seemed like a good job.

Q. Why are you considering leaving the academy?

God, that’s a book in itself! The short answer is that the reality of life in the academy is not all that I’d hoped. I am at a third-tier institution in a part of the country my wife and I don’t much like. In a perfect world, I’d find a different job in the academy, but the market makes that sort of move nearly impossible.

At the risk of bragging, I’ve got a damn good CV: a book finished and under contract with a major university press, two articles on my second project in top-tier journals, prestigious fellowships, and loads of teaching experience. In the past these would have allowed me to move up, but that is no longer the case. Last year I applied for two jobs, made the on-campus stage for one of them. I lost out to a candidate with two books, multiple major articles and tenure at an R-1 university.

This brought home the fact that when you get to the final rounds, publications and awards don’t matter because all the finalists are going to have them. At that point it’s a matter of fit and personality, which is another way of saying “blind luck.” I could continue to apply for jobs, and hope that I would eventually win the cosmic coin-flip, but the stress of the market and the long odds of finding a desirable position made this route unacceptable.

I've come to realize two things:

1. Staying in academia would mean staying at my current school.

2. I am not staying at my current school.

Other factors, related and unrelated:

• Pay. Salaries have been frozen for four years and the chances of a meaningful raise are zero. We’re living pay-check to pay-check, and that sucks. I can make more at private school.

• Once you have tenure, my current university provides little/no support for research. As a result my research program is about to die, so why not let it die at a prep school?

• My current uni. provides no tuition support even at universities in the same state system. I see senior faculty teaching two courses every summer just so their kids can attend _____ State, and I’m not interested in going down that road.

Q. What is it about private school teaching in particular that attracts you?

Going the prep school route brings me and my family a tremendous amount of freedom. How many academics can choose the city, or even the state, in which they want to live? If I go the prep school route I will be able to do that.

$$$$$. Believe it or not prep schools pay more (often much more) than your average college or university. According to the salary schedule of one prep school (granted it’s in Los Angeles) I would walk through the door making $66,000. According to my rep at Carney, salaries in less high-rent cities would be in the high $50s to low $60s. That’s real money.

Quality and quantity of Students. Students at prep schools read and write better than the students in my surveys. And while I will teach more classes per semester, they will be far smaller, so the total number of students I have will actually decrease.

Community. While we have a handful of majors whom I dearly love, the majority of my students disappear at the end of the semester, and I never see them again. I attended and taught at small colleges, and I miss the sense of community inherent in smaller institutions. Most prep schools operate in the same way.

Career prospects. PhDs at prep schools are on the fast track to department char and administration if they desire. In my current department I’d make chair in about twelve years, and never become dean. I don’t know if I want to go this route, but I want to have the option.

Q. Do you have any misgivings about leaving academe and teaching at the secondary level?

Of course! Right or wrong (and I’d argue “wrong”) there is more social cache attached to being a professor than a teacher. That is a pretty significant psychological barrier to get past, and I can’t say I’ve done it yet.

There is also the fact that leaving would probably mean the end of my research agenda. That said, I’ve heard from several different people that research is possible. One friend had a colleague on a year-long sabbatical (funded by the NEH) to work on his book, and everyone agreed that prep school librarians can get you hard-to find books through ILL. Many schools also will pay for borrowing privileges from local university libraries. So while research may become a summer-only activity, for many of us it already is.

Q. How does the hiring process differ in the world of independent secondary schools?

First, it’s a bit later in the year. The majority of hiring takes place in the late spring, right as higher ed is wrapping up.

Second, a lot of it runs through regional and national hiring firms such as Carney Sandoe. This actually makes life much easier, as you write one letter, one CV and let the search firm do the legwork to find you appropriate positions. Then you sit back and wait to hear from schools. I’m sure it’s just as stressful as the academic market, but at least you don’t have to tailor twenty-five different letters.

Third, the PhD really makes a candidate stand out. At the risk of jinxing myself, this year (for the first time in my life) I’m going to be a hot candidate, possibly turning down interviews and offers. Imagine that.

*Thanks to Ben Harrison for the great interview. For more information on making the switch to private school teaching, and additional advice from BH and other Ph.D.'s, check out my Inside Higher Ed column next month.

A Word of Caution

2010-11-08T07:35:00.000-06:00

Why is this always happening to me?

What's one of the worst things that can happen to an academic/job seeker/freelance writer/columnist/part-time blogger such a myself? One who spends an inordinate amount of time scrunched over typing? You guessed it (or maybe you didn't): a catastrophic computer meltdown. This has happened to me before, is happening to me right now, and will no doubt happen to me again in the future. Sometimes technology really pisses me off.

In the past 5 years I've gone through 3 laptops, and these weren't cheap laptops either. Two were fancy Mac Powerbooks, one was a decent HP Notebook. The first one was stolen (yes, this is a true and very sad story. Still makes me mad to talk about it, so we won't dwell on this); the replacement Mac was great until the screen suddenly went out AFTER the warranty had expired. And, of course, it was going to cost $1,100 minimum to replace the screen. Well, forget that. I was a recently minted PhD looking for work, with tons of debt on my shoulders and funds barely sufficient to cover my monthly expenses. Fixing the Mac, or buying a new one, was out of the question at that point. But I still needed a laptop: FAST. Desperate times called for desperate measures, so I broke down and bought my first ever PC, the HP Notebook. (No offense PC people, but never, never again will I buy a PC, even if I am poor as dirt).

I won't get into boring details, but the HP Notebook has caused me nothing but grief over the past 2 years. It constantly overheats, constantly dies, constantly sounds like a rocket ship, constantly gets viruses, constantly sucks. Period. But I'm still an academic job seeker and thus poor; as such I was hoping this puppy would last me until next year, when I could finally afford to buy a new Mac Powerbook after landing a sweet academic or non-academic job (HAHAHAHAHA). Sounds like a good plan, right? Just make due for now?

On Friday night the motherboard on my Notebook apparently fried, completely without warning. There was a loud zeeezzuuuum sound and then the screen went black. It hasn't restarted since. At least the Mac screen had the courtesy of going out after slowly fading over a period of 3 weeks, which gave me ample warning to save my files and videos. This time it was like--POOF--your computer is no longer. Your stuff is gone (I assume). Luckily, I've had so many negative experiences with technology in the past that I've learned my lesson and have the vast majority of my files saved elsewhere, but this is still a very bad situation. Very bad indeed. I had hoped to avoid the expense of repairing a laptop or buying a new one. However, my hopes and wishes are irrelevant.

Moral of this Monday morning story: back up your files, back up your files, back up your files. You will never regret taking the time to SAVE your work. Even job seekers without a stable income can be cursed with catastrophic computer failure at any time. Your poverty, good will, and innocence will not save you! Nothing will!

Anyone else have the same bad luck with technology? Care to share a horror strory of your own? I hope to be back blogging soon about higher ed, once I sort out my annoying computer problems . . .

Stepping Outside the Maze

2010-11-04T07:49:00.000-05:00

Sometimes, particularly in the midst of a long and torturous job search, it can seem like you've been blindly walking in circles and are starting to run out of viable options. Your efforts have seemingly come to naught; the various, sometimes conflicting tracks you've been following into the distance have all but disappeared. Last month's job leads have dried up. It feels like your SOL: alone and lost in a bewildering job-hunting maze, without a map or a plan or even a piece of beef jerky to keep you going.

What to do? Should you reconsider your options, lower your standards, or check out a pile of self-help employment books from the local library? Is it time to fill out a Starbuck's application? (Or maybe you hit bottom long ago and are already working there, or somewhere similar?) What, in other words, should you do when you have no idea where to go from here--wherever here may be?

As the tenure-track job advertisements dwindle down to November's haphazard drip, rather than September-October's steady trickle, I for one have begun to seriously consider the fact that I may not have any academic interviews, not to mention a tenure-track job, to gear up for in 2011. Am I OK with this? Am I ready to face the inevitable? Well, first of all, my search this year was quite "selective": not only was the number of jobs advertised in my specific history field limited to no more than 10-15 total in the entire country, I only applied for the handful of positions that I'm realistically prepared to accept, if it came to that point in the process.

In the past, I've applied for just about anything and everything because I didn't feel like I had a choice. Teach a 4/4 in North Dakota or Alabama? Why not? Work at an uber religious school when I'm not the slightest bit religious? Okey dokie. Who am I to turn my nose up at a relevant position? I'm an academic and should therefore suck it up and do whatever it takes to jump on the tenure track, right? Even if that means making $40K per year; teaching classes I'm not remotely interested in; teaching summer school/night classes to make extra cash; living somewhere I know I won't like; and watching my research program dry up to a puddle of goo. It's still better than the alternative: leaving the ivory tower. Handing in my "professional academic" badge for good.

Hmm . . . Now I'm not so sure. After spending the past 6-9 months seriously considering non-academic job options (academic administration, communications, publishing, journalism, nonprofits, government work, etc.), I've made a complete 180, at least mentally. I'm no longer so committed to academe that I'd be willing to live anywhere, do anything, wrack up more debt, to stay in the game. I've finally begun to make peace with my past and consider the sunk vs. opportunity costs of my current professional situation.

Sure, I'm still squarely on the fence. I've applied for academic jobs at this point in the year but not nonacademic. I've yet to decide which direction I really want to go or to solicit contacts in a new nonacademic field or to arrange informational interviews. (Why? Because I still have another postdoc lined up for 2011 and another couple geographic moves to make before I truly taking the plunge one way or the other. I'm basically still living the life of an impoverished academic vagabond.) But I have stopped applying for postdoctoral fellowships and grants, visiting positions, and undesirable tenure-track jobs. I'm getting pickier just when all signs indicate that I should be getting more desperate. And, yes, I'm OK with that. Regardless of what happens in the future, I'll still be living the life of the mind as an impoverished scholar in one form or another, whether I'm in the academy or outside, so why limit my employment options? There's a big world out there.

Sunk Costs vs. Opportunity Costs: Economics 101

2010-11-01T08:51:00.001-05:00

When you're trying to make a major life decision, in this case whether or not to stay in academe (or whether or not to finish an M.A. or Ph.D.), it's easy to get trapped in a vicious cycle of worry, self-doubt, and anxiety about the future. "Should I or shouldn't I do X? . . . What will happen if I stop doing Y? . . . Am I ready to take such a huge step right now? . . . Perhaps I should wait until next year? . . ."

If you're trapped in a perpetual moment of indecision, these are the types of questions that will soon begin to haunt the halls of your mind, both during your waking and your dream life. It's not fun to be stuck in the middle, constantly looking backward, with no clear way of moving forward.

So what factors should you be weighing when trying to decide which path to take right now? These will invariably differ depending on individual circumstances, but it might make things easier for you if you stop to consider two concepts that economists call "sunk costs" and "opportunity costs."

Are you a gambler?

First, some definitions:

Sunk Costs: These are the costs (in time, money, mental and emotional energy spent, etc.) incurred in the past as a result of a decision made long ago. It's now impossible to recover these retrospective costs. You may have spent 6-8+ years in grad school and wracked up $50K in student loan and credit card debt, or way more in my case, to obtain a humanities Ph.D., but there is nothing you can do about that now. Unless time travel becomes a realistic possibility sometime soon, it's too late to go back and change your mind or take a different path.

Opportunity Costs: These are the immediate costs of not taking the next best alternative or, in economics speak, of not putting a resource to its best use. Your Ph.D. in English, for example, might be of greater use in the corporate world rather than in academe, particularly if you've been looking for a full-time position for several years and are still coming up empty handed. The time/energy you're currently spending adjunct teaching at four different commuter campuses (for $3,000 per course, per semester, and no benefits), would most definitely be better spent on some other method of professional development that involved greater financial and career returns.

While it may seem like moving into another career, or investing further energy and money in a completely new professional path outside academe, is essentially wasteful (and depressing) at this point, sometimes it's better to start afresh. The fact is that continuing to stay un/under--or miserably--employed in academe is not going to get back what you've already sunken into the Ph.D. any more than leaving the ivory tower would.

Opportunity costs, on the other hand, are still in play. Sure, it's safer to stay with what you know and continue looking for academic work: joining the professorate in is what you've trained to do; academe is the world you're comfortable with. But what's the cost? If your energies and time could be better spent looking for a non-faculty administrative position, or learning HTML, or volunteering at a private school, or working part-time at a library, or taking business courses, and so on, the long-term cost of not doing any of these useful things could be great indeed. It's always a risk to move in a new professional direction. No argument there. But what's the cost of treading water? And more importantly, especially if you're currently unhappy, what's the emotional cost of remaining immobile, trapped in a job, or a location, or a stage of life that you hate? What's the point of all this suffering?

Maybe the best thing you got out of pursuing a fancy doctoral degree was the knowledge and skills attained in the process. Maybe,10 years from now, not landing on the tenure track will turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to you. Either way, it's critical to make a decision rather than continue to torment yourself needlessly. You might make the wrong choice, or you might not, but stalling is not going to make the transition process any easier.

I'll conclude with a few question worth pondering for any job seeker currently stuck in limbo:

1. What are the sunk costs of my professional choices thus far?

2. Am I willing to concede that these retrospective costs will never be returned to me and thus shouldn't have a bearing on my decisions now?

3. What's the opportunity cost of inaction? What am I missing by remaining in academe?

4. What could I gain if I chose to walk away or began to take steps in a new direction?

Am I saying that every non-academic opportunity out there is worth taking, no matter the cost? No, not at all. Instead, I'm advising you, the job seeker, to consider the cost(s) of not doing things that might help you to transition out of academe at the same time that you consider the costs of doing them.

Diversifying the (white) Academy: A Brief Film

2010-10-28T07:54:00.000-05:00

OK, so I was inspired to make this (PG rated) short, admittedly ridiculous parody cartoon about academic diversity by the person who made the "So you want to get a PhD in the Humanities?" clip. I enjoyed laughing at her silly, yet poignant, little film so much that I wanted to try it out myself. That the online movie making process is now easy enough for a true novice like me to produce something in about 30 minutes it pretty amazing.

Anyway, it was an experiment and a lot of fun to make, and it didn't take very long either, which is probably clear in the final product. And, yes, both of my characters do sound an awful lot like Stephen Hawkings (with no offense intended to SH.) In the process of making it last night, I think I amused myself more than anything.

If any other A.B.D.s and/or Ph.D.s out there make more short, crazy films to blow off steam and revel in some comic relief, please send the clips my way! I'll be happy to post more high-quality films here once I give them a look. We could all use a few laughs now and then . . .

Considering a Humanities PhD? Think Again!

2010-10-27T12:10:00.000-05:00

If you haven't seen it already, this brief homemade video, So you Want to Get a PhD in the Humanities , is currently making the rounds in cyberspace. Have time to take a looksie?
http://www.xtranormal.com/watch/7451115/

I checked it out today and had a good chuckle. The low-budget quality is great; perfect for the topic under consideration! You really should watch it all the way through--it's only 3 minutes long--because the film honestly does get better and better. How many PhDs out there had a similar conversation before applying to graduate school ages ago? How many more conversations like this will it take to convince young people that a humanities PhD, particularly in a field like English, is not always the best way to reward one's hard work as an undergraduate? There are better ways, my friends.

For what it's worth, I honestly do hope prospective PhD applicants will take the film's message to heart, even if they think it's a total exaggeration. (FYI: It's so not an exaggeration . . . regardless of how sad this may seem.)

Enjoy!

The Decision to Walk Away from Academia

2010-10-26T06:24:00.000-05:00

Guest post by Benjamin Harrison

A few years ago, with a three-year contract about to expire and a family to support, I found myself on the verge of leaving academia. While I might have been able to cobble together some sort of teaching position to tide me over another year, that is a game for someone who is young and single, not married and supporting a family. In short, if I hadn’t found a tenure-track job that year, I would have been out of academia, and the prospect was too awful to contemplate for any length of time.

I conducted desultory explorations of other careers, including academic administration, secondary school teaching, and strategic consulting. But mostly I went to see a therapist and indulged a short-lived (but profitable!) addiction to on-line poker. Happily, I landed a tenure-track job, moved, and found actual people with whom I could profitably play cards. If the secret to a happy ending is knowing when to roll the credits, that would have been the time, right?

Well, life goes on, even when it’s going well. Here I am, once again about to leave academia and…I’m fine with it. What happened? How did I get to this place? I’m planning a few posts on this subject, mostly because the route was neither straight nor obvious, but it’s one that many PhDs have to take.

Although it was by no means the most important factor, I can now say, “I succeeded and decided to move on.” I grabbed the gold ring of a tenure-track job, finished my book, wrote two articles of which I am quite proud, locked up tenure, and won a couple of spiffy grants. I could stay in academia if I wanted to. As stupid as it might seem, leaving voluntarily is fundamentally different than leaving because I have to. Obviously, I’m very lucky to have a tenure-track job to abandon, but I think the larger lesson applies to everyone who is on the fence. If you’re contemplating a move out of academia, or face the horrid prospect of having that move forced upon you, find a way to make the decision yours. If it helps, remember that academia makes some pretty unreasonable demands on its acolytes, and it’s often not worth the price. Go, and don’t look back.

An important step in making the journey out of academia voluntary is to figure out what is keeping you in. It isn’t the high pay, or jet-setting lifestyle, so what is it? For me, a big part of it was that my research wasn’t done. I had a half-revised book, and a second project I loved. I didn’t know it at the time, but figuring out how to leave my research on my own terms was tremendously important. The first step was to wrap up the book; so if that’s your ultimate goal, get cracking. You might find that once you have closure on that project, you can move on. In my case, however, it was the second project that drew me in. I had a story to tell, and hated the idea of never doing so.

The answer, I’m afraid, makes me something of a caricature: I’ve begun work on a historical novel. To my surprise, I have found that writing in this genre satisfies many of the same psychological and intellectual needs that scholarly writing does. Call it methadone if you like. Whether I’m writing a scholarly monograph or a novel, my goal is to understand the past, and communicate that understanding in a way my reader will find meaningful. The difference is that when Ben Harrison, historian, runs out of evidence, he runs out of argument. When Ben Harrison, novelist, runs out of evidence, he makes it up. Obviously this particular route is not for everyone, but if you love the academy because you love writing, don’t stop! For my purposes fiction allows me to continue to think and write about the past in a way I enjoy. And right now, that seems like a pretty good way to go.

Private Schools & Carney, Sandoe: Redux

2010-10-25T08:19:00.000-05:00

For those of you interested in teaching at a private school in the near future, I have both good news and bad news.

First the good news: Carney, Sandoe & Associates (or CSA) are actively recruiting well-qualified job candidates (and yes, M.A.s and Ph.D.s are most welcome) who are passionate about primary and secondary school teaching and experienced in the classroom. America's largest recruitment firm for the private school market is not prejudiced against men and women with doctoral degrees. In fact, to potential employers, a Ph.D. demonstrates subject matter expertise, a factor which is taken quite seriously by hiring committees at private schools throughout the country. Since certification is not required to teach at a private school, applicants can demonstrate their subject matter expertise in other ways: hence the significance of a M.A. or Ph.D. in a core subject.

But, subject matter expertise is not the same as, nor should it be mistaken for, real-world experience teaching and/or working with young people between the ages of 13-17. CSA's clients are the private schools and they, not CSA, are seeking new faculty members who are committed to working with young people and interested in elementary or secondary teaching as a lifetime career, not a fall back, or 2nd choice, career. For better or worse, they don't want academe's leftovers. Private schools want top faculty members and, while you may be surprised to hear this, there are enough applicants out there--particularly for humanities and social science positions--that the schools can afford to be quite picky.

The last thing you want to do, then, is represent yourself as a "failed academic," someone who sought desperately, perhaps for years, to find a tenure-track academic position but then finally gave up and decided to try private school teaching on a whim. Segueing from the world of higher ed to the world of secondary school teaching is not something to take lightly. For many Ph.D.s and A.B.Ds who love teaching, it's a smart and valid choice; but not everyone is suited to teach at a private school. Hiring committees are wary of hiring disillusioned Ph.D.s who may or may not be truly dedicated to their school's mission or passionate about educating young people.

So if you are seriously considering private school teaching as a plan B, what can you do to prepare yourself for the job market and increase your chances of being represented by CSA? Well, first of all, if you haven't done so already, it's in your best interest to start interacting with adolescents as soon as possible. Have you ever taught, tutored, assisted, worked with, or coached high school kids, for example? If so, these experiences need to be highlighted in your application materials. If not, then the onus is on you to gain some face-time with young people before (*but I'll come back to this with a couple of caveats) seeking representation from CSA.

If you've never worked with young adults, moreover, how will you know if private school teaching is the right career choice for you? Although many Ph.D.s assume that university-level and secondary-level teaching are fairly similar, interacting with and designing course content for 13-17 year-olds, and their parents, is a different kettle of fish entirely. Some of these students may be as smart, if not smarter, than the college freshmen you've worked with in the past, but a private school curriculum (i.e. the core subjects and classes offered) is completely different than that offered at a four-year college. You will need to broaden your scope, put away your niche interests, and focus on the core subjects offered by private schools: English, social studies, math, chemistry, foreign languages, drama, etc.

Keep in mind, too, that within these primary teaching categories there is not a lot of wiggle room. In other words, if you're an historian specializing in female literacy in medieval France, you're not going to be offering a special subjects course on this very narrow topic in a private school anytime soon. Instead, you'd be expected primarily to teach survey courses: European history, World history, even American history and the like. There might be occasions when your particular area of expertise will come into play but not as often as you might like if you're truly fixated only on your own research interests. Of course, we all know that most tenure-track professors teach general survey courses as their bread and butter. It's not that different at the private school level, except that introducing a new, highly specialized course would pose a much greater challenge.

A couple caveats: If you're in a high demand field (such as sciences and foreign languages), then you're chances of being hired by a private school, even without much classroom experience, are greatly increased. It's just a simple matter of supply and demand. So for STEM folks out there, applying sooner rather than later might be a smart move. If, however, you have a Ph.D. in a humanities or social science field, you will need to work harder to stand out.

NB: I'll be talking more about private school teaching in the future, as will Benjamin Harrison, so check back soon for the continuation of this discussion.

Carney Sandoe, the Job Search & My First Referral

2010-10-20T07:59:00.000-05:00

Would you hire me?

Guest Post by Benjamin Harrison

As some of those who are considering the leap to teaching in a prep school know, Carney, Sandoe and Associates (CSA) are the most important name in the business.

For the uninitiated, CSA is a search firm hired by independent schools to help them fill teaching and administrative vacancies. Candidates “apply” to CSA and if they are accepted, the firm then operates as a matchmaker, connecting candidates with schools. The hard part (or at least the first hard part) is getting past the CSA gatekeeper. Perhaps the most frustrating thing about this process is that even having gone through the process, I have no idea what CSA looks for in a candidate.

A few years ago I applied, and got nowhere. Last year I applied again, and made it. Same guy, same CV for the most part (I doubt they care that my book is under contract!), different result. My only piece of advice is that if you apply and get turned down, contact someone at CSA and ask how you can improve your application. I know this runs counter to everything we hear about the market – the discussion forum on the Chronicle of Higher Education has many, many threads telling candidates not to contact the search committee and ask why they were turned down.

The difference, of course, is that a university’s search committee doesn’t care even a little bit whether you ever find a job. (Hell, by the time you receive your rejection they have forgotten your name.) CSA, in contrast, would be pleased as punch if you were to submit a stronger application, get through the process, and then get hired. Why? Because that’s how they make their money.

Once CSA accepts you, you have to fill out an extensive questionnaire to make sure that the match is a good one. The questions range from teaching background and interests, to the kind of school you’d prefer (boarding? Single-sex? Military? Religious? Militantly religious?), to your geographic preferences, and interest in extracurricular activities. Then you submit a vita, personal statement, transcripts and a list of references. And then you wait for CSA to work their magic.

The magic begins to happen . . . well, in my case it began today when I received my first referral. A referral is simply an email announcing that CSA has sent your file to a particular school. Ideally (though not always) the school will fit the criteria you laid out in the candidate questionnaire. In some cases, the school will then contact you offering a phone interview. In others, you must make the first move, sending a cover letter and/or email confirming your interest in the position.

The referral I received today stated that if I am interested in the position, I should follow up by mail or email. In this case, I have decided not to follow up – it is a relatively new school, which raises concerns about its stability, and (to be honest) at this point I’m feeling pretty picky.

*Have any comments or questions about the private school application process? Ask your questions here, or drop me a line at benjamin.harrison.1883@gmail.com

Feeling the Job-Hunter's Funk

2010-10-18T09:24:00.003-05:00

I've got a bad case of Monday morning fatigue today. I'm completely burned out with looking for jobs, applying for jobs, thinking about my professional future, remembering all those unsuccessful applications I've sent out in the past, and facing the sobering negative balance of my career choices thus far. Certainly this black cloud hovering above me, this feeling of utter weariness, is not a good sign for the first day of the "work" week: I should be fired up, pumped to put my nose to the grind stone, ready to start the week off on the right foot, or some other idiom appropriate to the job-hunter's unfortunate situation.

Nonetheless, I'm dragging; it's slow going in my mental household today. I'd greatly prefer to put my head down on the desk or slip back under the covers until tomorrow. When you're as far behind the professional/financial eight ball as I am, what motivation is there to keep plugging away day after day during a lingering recession? What good will all this unpaid labor really do me in the end? I've got all these academic articles in progress, for example, but hardly any relevant jobs to apply for. Am I losing the motivation necessary to press on in the face of obstacles? Oh, woe is me, right?

Goya, The Dream of Reason Brings Forth Monsters

On days like this I tend to smack myself, consume copious amounts of caffeine, or take a short break until my brain clears itself of what I like to call the job-hunter's funk, or simply, the funk. When you're a Ph.D. perpetually on the prowl for academic and non-academic employment opportunities, simultaneously trying to maintain an active research agenda on the one hand and experiment with new career paths on the other, feeling the funk is inevitable. There are days when you will feel like a big old lumpy useless undesirable BLOB, or like a tragic character in a Dicken's novel. Being stretched too thin, both personally and professionally, has its consequences; hence the overall funkiness of my day today-and not in a good way.

But I know I'm not the only one. One glance at the virtual world reveals plenty of depressed, exhausted, or apathetic A.B.D.s and Ph.Ds. looking for their next score, be it a job or a fellowship or a grant.

"I had just hoped for a less-exhausting job search season this year," writes someone by the name "minira" in a CHE forum thread. "But even narrowing the parameters of my search from last year's 'hit everything that moves' strategy, there are about a dozen jobs and postdocs I could and maybe should apply to. I'm just having trouble getting excited about any of them, and the thought of picking up and moving AGAIN next year makes me desperately unhappy." Minira is, of course, only one of many disgruntled voices out there. "The thought of going through the application cycle and moving again is exhausting," concludes another like-minded respondent.

Let's face it: we're all bone tired of submitting applications, waiting and waiting, and then, if we're fortunate, moving our crap from place to place in order to remain marginally employed. "Academic life is increasingly made up of a series of applications," bemoans Joseph Grim Feinberg, graduate student in anthropology at the University of Chicago. "Months and years of my life have been taken away, and nothing short of systemic transformation will redeem them."

Feinberg might be talking solely about applying for grants but his first-person piece immediately brought to mind the hundreds of grants, tenure-track jobs, visiting faculty positions, postdoctoral fellowships, and nonacademic jobs I've applied for over the past several years. How many hours--days even--of my life have been wasted on the mind-numbing activity that is preparing job/grant applications? (Not to mention the time spent preparing for and traveling vast distances to preliminary and on-campus interviews.)

If there is one thing I've mastered, it's the ability to coast into mental auto pilot and apply for stuff. All sorts of stuff. I'm great at proposing things, stating my professional qualifications, and asking others for jobs and/or money. But constantly writing applications it's not the most productive way to spend one's time. It's not the most creative or useful activity. It won't help me out of the funk.

So what will? I dunno. Those articles I need to finish don't look too enticing. Neither do those applications I should send out. Ugh. Perhaps more coffee is the only solution . . .

Administrator-Scholars: Do They Have a Future in the Academy?

2010-10-15T12:25:00.000-05:00

So I was reading the Chronicle of Higher Ed this morning and noticed the great article by Donna M. Bickford and Anne Mitchell Whisnant, "Building a Corps of Administrator-Scholars." [See: http://chronicle.com/article/Building-a-Corps-of/124902/]

Bickford and Whisnant, both of whom are administrators and adjunct faculty members at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, begin by noting that more and more humanities Ph.D.s are assuming a wide variety of full-time administrative roles in the academy while continuing to research, write, public speak, teach and publish on the side. The significant academic efforts of these mostly female "administrator-scholars," however, remain largely unrecognized and unrewarded by academe. What Bickford and Whisnant would like to see is the creation of a formal system designed to recognize and promote the unique contributions of administrators with Ph.D.s., particularly those who remain active in their respective fields of expertise.

"We've presented a proposal [at UNC] to design a system of options and policies that would better support and recognize the contributions of nonfaculty administrators with Ph.D.'s who occupy an often awkward in-between space in the academic hierarchy. Already in academe, people are talking about alternate academic careers for Ph.D.'s. But the promise of those careers won't be fulfilled without systemic change. Universities must create formal structures to assist our growing cohort in pursuing scholarly research and teaching while continuing to develop administrative skills and talents," they argue.

I think this is a fabulous idea, and one which might make academic administration much more desirable as an alternate career for talented Ph.D.s interested in the non-teaching aspects of academe. But the slew of comments following the article are reflective of the continuing, stereotypical bifurcation of the academy into administrator/supportive-drone types versus faculty/knowledge-disseminators.

"The mission of the academy is to discover and disseminate knowledge. Everything else is support. The faculty complete the mission and the staff (administrators) provide the support. This piece sounds like a backdoor into the mission end of the academy," argues one critic. But wait, responds another, your attitude simply "perpetuates a class-based version of academia where the faculty are the elite, and the staff are their servants." Yet another critic calls foul on both the aims of the article and the assumption that administrators can, and should, assume more faculty-esque smart-people tasks: "It has nothing to do with being a servant or being elite. The university has certain tasks that need to be done. You were hired to do those important tasks. If you are busy doing the work of a faculty member, than who will be doing the administrative work? Will we have to hire yet another administrator-scholar to do the work for which you were hired?" Certain tasks are reserved for certain folks; end of story.

Apparently you cannot work in a "support" role at a university and simultaneously engage in, and be rewarded for completing, some of the tasks of a faculty member, otherwise there will be no one around doing your critical admin role, whatever that may be. Holding down the fort, answering phones, filing paperwork, typing, talking to students. You know, supporting stuff. To use a sports analogy, faculty members are like the boxers, who go out, take a beating in the ring and capture the crowd's attention; administrators are like the lackeys on the sidelines, squirting water in the boxers' mouths, wiping them down, smacking them on the ass, providing moral and sometimes physical support. The administrator-lackeys might dream about being in the ring, beating someone to a pulp, reveling in a bit of glory, but who, then, would clean their mouth guard or rub their muscles after the fight? No one, thats who.

Don't mess with me; I've got a mission.

So is there really a future for so-called administrator-scholars in academe? Is the academy really ready for them? Or will the old, time-honored adage remain true?

Administration and faculty, never the twain shall meet.

(At least not in the ring.)

Job-Hunting 101: Academic Style

2010-10-14T12:08:00.000-05:00

Underneath the good cheer is a very queasy stomach.

To all the 2010-11 academic job seekers out there: Are you scrambling to put together last-minute applications for tenure-track job openings in your field? Is this your first year on the market, or have you already had several unsuccessful trips on the job market merry-go-round and are now feeling dispirited and perhaps sick to your stomach as a result? Wouldn't it be great to follow a simple and straightforward checklist, approved by search committees everywhere, when applying for tenure-track jobs?

Luckily, my newest Inside Higher Ed column "Standing Out from Herd" was not only written with the stressed-out, overwhelmed job seeker in mind but was also rubber stamped by various search committee members.

Here's a taste:

"Congratulations! Whether you’re a Ph.D., or A.B.D., in the humanities, social sciences, or a STEM field, the launch of another academic job market cycle is officially upon us. Now what? Let’s say you’ve scanned the job advertisements and found a handful of 2010-11 tenure-track job openings for which you feel qualified to submit an application. In the current climate of limited tenure-stream openings, large and talented applicant pools, and both rising and employed academic “stars” now setting their sights on mid-tier and teaching-intensive colleges and universities, how can you, a strong but perhaps not stellar job candidate, stand out from the herd? Do you have what it takes to compete this season?

I’d like to offer my fellow tenure-track job seekers a quick brush-up on the academic job application process in the form of a top 10 list – arranged in order of importance. Keeping in mind that application deadlines are looming, my advice is to get started on these tips ASAP."

If you're in need of guidance, or would just like a bit of reassurance, feel free to read the top 10 tips here:
http://www.insidehighered.com/advice/on_the_fence/woolf7

Freelance Writing: Alternate Careers Continued

2010-10-13T05:58:00.000-05:00

Not Your Typical Career Advice Post

I realize that some veteran freelancers may think it unwise to call freelance writing a "career" (in the sense of a full-time, paid position with benefits) and, at this point, I'm inclined to agree with them. Breaking into freelance writing is almost as difficult as finding a tenure-track academic job, only the pay is much worse and more sporadic. Simply put, making a proper career out of freelancing takes initiative, time, guts, connections, and supplemental resources; it's not the path of least resistance. You may have to live in someone's basement for a year, go without electricity or cable, or even subsistence farm your parents' backyard, in order to live the freelancing "dream." In fact, you may be waiting for the dream to pan out indefinitely. I'm not joking.

Crap, did I forgot to pay the electric bill again?

My own attempts to segue into freelance writing have convinced me that while it can be a great way to broaden your professional social circles, experiment with a variety of writing genres, and diversify your writing portfolio, it's not the best way to make money. Consequently, it's also usually not the best time investment. You might pour your heart and soul into researching, writing, and polishing that 1,500 word article over a period of several days, but you're still only going to get paid $100. And who wants to start off on an alternate career path that is not only strewn with significant hurdles but also pays worse than adjunct teaching? As for myself, I refuse to gear up madly in pursuit of yet another career promising limited, or nil, financial returns. (Been there, done that, thank you very much.)

I am, however, interested in attaining the following, all of which I believe freelance writing does afford:

1. Professional contacts in the non-academic world
2. Experience writing for a wide variety of print and online publications
3. Hands-on experimentation with writing genres outside my traditional comfort zone
4. Ability to reach new, diverse audiences
5. Short-term, incremental steps away from academe

Freelance writing is great for those of us who enjoy writing and working independently but are not sure if we're ready to make an actual career as a professional writer, either inside or outside the ivory tower, on our own or as part of an organization. I think we learn best by doing, and freelancing is one way to get busy and flex your mental muscles. FAST. You don't have to sit around for months and months waiting for the perfect full-time job to materialize. Instead, you can get out there and start working on small projects right away and even make a little pocket change. You can also make contacts with editors and establish positive working relationships with media professionals outside academe.

The important thing to keep in mind is that freelancing is not something you'll suddenly transform into a full-on, well paid career overnight. It's better, in my opinion, to think of it as a practice run, an experimental jaunt into the world of non-academic communication. It's a great way to test the waters and gain confidence in your ability to market yourself to, and communicate with, a much wider public than the small, exclusive circles of academe to which you've been confined in the past.

So far my freelancing "career" has consisted of article writing for legitimate magazines and other print/online publications, column writing for Inside Higher Ed, and manuscript editing and proofreading for various academics. All of these were either ongoing paid assignments or one-time only gigs, and they were acquired in a variety of ways. In some cases I sent queries and sample clips to editors before they commissioned me to write an article; in other cases I submitted completed articles and hoped for the best (not all were selected for publication); and still in other cases editors and fellow academics contacted me directly to ask if I would write a specific piece or proofread a text. Finding work through people you know, or organizations that you trust, is a wise way to get started. So, too, is submitting queries to editors at well-established print and online publications.

Do keep in mind that the world of freelancing is full of bottom feeders. Avoiding scams is key. Be wary of anything that sounds to good to be true! I was nearly suckered into a lucrative sounding part-time freelancing gig with a fictitious company whose sole intent in advertising for a freelancer was to convince X number of job candidates to pay an exorbitant fee per month to join an online site for writers. (Yes, http://www.realwritingjobs.com/ is a scam. Don't fall for it!) A little online research indicated what was really going on and the misstep was easily avoided, but it is annoying to have to sift through false leads. For this reason, I would avoid hunting for freelance writing and editing leads via websites like http://www.freelancewritinggigs.com/. There is nothing intrinsically wrong with this site but they tend to just scan Craigslist, which is full of dicey ads, and then post links to job openings that may or may not be legitimate. Why waste your time? Time is money . . . and mental and emotional energy.

In sum, on a scale of 1 to 10, I'd rate freelancing a 3 in terms of viable career options for humanities Ph.D.s. While I enjoy the work and will continue to pursue freelancing opportunities on the side as they come my way, I think I (we) can do much better.

Beware the Career Transition Nightmare

2010-10-11T09:12:00.000-05:00

You're running through a dimly lit empty hall filled with closed doors . . . rushing to find the right classroom . . . searching for lecture notes . . . trying to remember what you're scheduled to teach. Glancing down, you notice you're improperly dressed, or even naked, without shoes or socks, or god forbid, undies. Though you're 100% ill prepared for today's class, and full of terror and anxiety, you open the door and find hundreds of students waiting for you (or just someone scary). Making your way over to the lectern, you wonder what the hell you'll talk about today and why you don't remember accepting, or wanting, the position. You wonder whose idea this was anyway. There must be some mistake, you conclude . . .

. . . Moments later you find yourself on a motorbike, clad in shorts and a tank top, weaving through a crowd of people in an office building with one arm. In the other arm you're holding a black leather briefcase. Spotting you, someone important looking beckons you to follow them down a bright, artificially lit hall into a conference room. Everyone is waiting for you to take the podium. You open the briefcase . . . discover its empty. A cell phone rings. You answer. Its your lover, or spouse, or friend, reminding you that you never submitted your dissertation, or that its full of errors, and the graduate program is going to rescind your Ph.D. . . You flee the conference room. Glancing at yourself in a random mirror, you see someone naked with missing teeth and hair. You can't find an exit, but that makes the terrifying little man in the corner whose watching you very happy indeed . . .

I give up already.

Sound familiar? This sample scenario pretty much sums up my latest round of job-hunting/career transition nightmares. I jerk bolt upright at 4am, with sweaty palms, a pounding heart, and feet tangled in the sheets. Annoyance with myself for having such ridiculous anxiety dreams about teaching or looking for work or forgetting to attend class trumps whatever fears I might have just experienced in dream land. (Listen, subconscious, enough with the tardy, clueless student dreams already; I'm well and truly done with school now!)

These dreams are pretty easy to read. They're about losing control of one's professional identity and falling apart as a result. The equation is simple: if you lose track of your professional self, you lose everything, ranging from your sanity to your underwear. OK, for someone still fully in career search mode, that is a bit freaky. Why are our professional identities so entangled with our personal, interior selves? Is there some way to disentangle these various selves, to tell them apart?

Herminia Ibarra, author of Working Identity: Unconventional Strategies for Reinventing Your Career, argues that a mid-life career change amounts, in essence, to a total reinvention of the core self. While we're holding on to the past with one hand, clinging tightly to the time and effort we've invested in a particular path, we're simultaneously reaching out toward an unknown future with the other. For career changers, this can lead to a confusing yet necessary period of being, as Ibarra calls it, "between identities," in which we feel deeply fragmented, pulled in several different directions at once. This experimental phase, though exciting at times, is truly nerve wracking for the individual.

"The reinventing process is rarely quick or easy, even for the veteran job-hopper. Emotionally, it is hard to let go of a career in which we have invested much time, training and hard work. Letting go is even harder when the alternatives remain fuzzy. And yet there's no avoiding this agonizing period between old and new careers: A transition can begin years before a concrete alternative materializes, as we start creating and testing possible selves," notes Ibarra.

Viewing the beginning or middle stage of a career transition as a trial-and-error period of experimentation, doubt, and inner turmoil, where our identities remain in a constant of flux, certainly explains the nightmares. Transitional states are never fun or easy; they're mentally, emotionally, and financially draining. And the bad dreams merely confirm how we're really feeling about being torn between options A or B, or pushed out of one career into another due to a lack of openings, or not having any money. But whether or not we end up actually making a professional switch, we still need to suffer through these painful periods in order to better understand, and test out, the possible selves before us.

Ibarra's work makes clear the underlying connection between what we do for a living, and the values and beliefs associated with our careers, and how we define ourselves. Our basic but implicit assumptions about life are often so buried beneath the surface that we rarely stop and think about how our working identity can either affirm or contradict personal values rooted at a much deeper level.

All this makes for excellent food for thought. Knowing the whole job search thing is really about the self is motivation to keep battling those pesky nightly demons. I'll try to keep an open mind, then, the next time I find myself in my undies in a dark classroom, alone with Freddy Krueger.

Nails on a chalkboard, anyone?

Prep School Applications: The Personal Statement

2010-10-08T05:57:00.000-05:00

Guest Post by Benjamin Harrison

My deepest apologies for a long absence from this lovely page – midterms beckoned with an insistence rivalling that of a hungry infant...

In previous posts (here and here), I’ve discussed the differences between the job application materials required by prep schools and by colleges and universities. In the last post in this series, I’ll touch on the dreaded Personal Statement. In some ways this will read like the Statement of Teaching Philosophy that some schools require, and you may be able to adjust it, but there are also important differences. (For discussion of this subject by someone who has actually landed a teaching job in math, visit Sam Shah’s webpage. I’ll also admit that I feel less sure about this post than others I’ve written.)

According to Carney Sandoe’s website, your personal statement is “a reflection of your philosophy of education, your belief system in terms of pedagogy, and/or your ideas about teaching and/or administration. It is a way for your voice to shine through your file and reach out to potential schools... Your personal statement can take many forms. It can include anecdotal information that will make your candidacy more interesting to a school. It can outline your professional accomplishments and address how your experiences have prepared you for this move. You may want to touch on an example from your past where you were inspired by a former teacher or colleague. You could discuss a few of your personality traits, in particular those that help explain why you work well with kids or why you would be successful in a school setting. OR, you can blend any number of these themes.”

The personal statement is doubly important for Ph.D.s because, as I’ve mentioned before, some administrators are suspicious of a Ph.D.’s motives for seeking a job in a prep school. You’ve started to allay those concerns with your CV (which highlights your work with tweens and teens) and cover letter (which briefly explains why you’re doing this), but your teaching statement is where you have to close the deal.

As in the case of the letter and CV, your prep school personal statement will probably be shorter than your statement of teaching philosophy. (Carney Sandoe suggests 1-2 pages.) While the statement is shorter, it has to cover a lot of ground, perhaps more than your teaching philosophy. Think of your personal statement as a story that interweaves past, present and future. How did you decide that prep school teaching is the life for you, and what kind of teacher will you be? Many statements (including Sam Shah’s) begin with an anecdote that captures the moment at which the author’s desire to teach crystallized. Alternately, you might lead with a description of a particularly striking class-room experience that illuminates your teaching style. But in either case the goal is the same – to make the person behind the application come to life.

Leading with the personal accomplishes two important goals. First, it forces you to discuss your individual experience rather than wander off into a vague discussion of your teaching philosophy. (Guess what? Every teacher on the planet encourages active learning.) Don’t simply say that you try to get students excited about your class, explain how you do it. Do you try to connect chemistry to the real world? Of course you do, but how? Do you use literature to bring history to life? What books or poems do you use, and what lessons do students learn from them? Second, the act of writing about this key moment will bring a passion to your writing that both captures the reader’s attention, and (hopefully!) serves as a leitmotif for your entire statement.

Good luck, all. If you have corrections or comments, I’d love to hear them!

Alternate Careers, cont.: Commerical or Academic Publishing

2010-10-06T09:12:00.001-05:00

Let me be straight with you. When I finished my Ph.D. a few years ago, my first thought (other than "oh, crap, now what? I've got to pay back my student loans . . .") was the following: "If I can't find a tenure-track job, or decide I'd prefer to do something else with my overly specialized humanities degree, the first alternate career I'm going to explore is the world of commercial or academic publishing."

I am a total bibliophile: I love reading, I love amassing books, I love stroking books (esp. old books), I love writing, and I love editing and proofreading the work of others. What a perfect job, right?

So I read as much as I could online and even bought a few books including How to Get a Job in Publishing by Alison Baverstock and Book Business: Publishing Past, Present, and Future by Jason Epstein, as well as a thorough textbook introduction to the publishing world, the title of which I can no longer remember (sorry.)

I discovered quite quickly that the publishing world was undergoing a process of major transition due to the increasing importance and popularity of digital technology. Whether a job candidate was interested in working in editorial, marketing, production or sales, without a basic knowledge of e-publishing and other current trends, and an awareness of some of the larger crises facing publishers today, he/she would have little hope of either getting an interview or landing a job, even at the entry level.

Since I'm a historian and basically a speed reader, I read the textbook first and absorbed the history of publishing and the major world-wide players in the industry in about 48 hrs. So far so good. Then I moved on to reading about publishing as a business, learning how the four main departments (see above) function differently, and yet work together constantly, to achieve the final result. It became clear to me that I was most interested in the editorial side of things: working with authors, acquiring and editing manuscripts, writing copy, focusing on all the little details, etc. Reading How to Get a Job in Publishing, in which the duties of each department are discussed in detail, only confirmed my assumptions. Editorial should be my home department, assuming I could find a job in publishing in the first place. And this was going to be pretty tricky, considering the fact that I lived a FAR distance from any publishing centers. Like an academic position, a publishing job would require a move.

The first few resumes and cover letters that I sent out resulted in silence. Nothing happened; zilch. But I kept applying. The next thing I knew I had two interviews lined up, one with a major commercial press, another with a company that produces mainly textbooks. Both interviews were for entry-level editorial positions working with reference works. Not my #1 choice but at least I could get my foot in the door as an editorial assistant. And Baverstock and other industry insiders swear that just finding a job in the department you would like to work in for the long term, in my case editorial, is a great way to begin. Most people change jobs and/or positions relatively frequently in publishing anyway.

Needless to say the first interview didn't go as well as I had anticipated. First there was the editorial test, then there were all these touchy feely personal/professional questions, then there was the awkward and brutal salary disclosure, and finally, I discovered that I'd have to return for a 2nd round interview if I made it onto the short list. (You can read about my experience at the first publishing house, "Botching the Interview," here: http://www.insidehighered.com/advice/on_the_fence/woolf3) I wasn't very poker-facey at this interview, and I did a poor job, I think, of hiding my disappointment about the low, low salary and need for another interview. I had already paid out of pocket to fly to said distant city, stay in a hotel, and take a taxi to the publishers. Having to do it again didn't bode well for my pocketbook, esp. considering the salary and lack of moving assistance. They also wanted someone who could start right away.

Another thing that bothered me was the spatial layout of the place and the gender dynamic. The publishing "house" actually looked like a bleak newsroom, with desks manned by women placed close together in the middle of a large, central room surrounded on the left and right by larger enclosed offices, nearly all of which contained important looking men. The lack of women in key positions made me feel slightly icky.

After some soul searching, I withdrew my name from the search and cancelled my upcoming interview with the 2nd publisher, who had already emailed me to ask if a max salary of $22,000-$24,000 was going to be too low for me. As a 30 yr old with a Ph.D., tons of debt, a need to relocate asap, and a partner based elsewhere, too low it most certainly was.

Disappointment set in immediately. I knew I would like the job, and the industry, even if being an editorial assistant seemed super easy and meant more for a 22 yr old with a B.A. But if I had lived nearby and not needed to make a professional level salary due to my poor life choices, I would have accepted the position regardless just to get a feel for the publishing world. There is nothing better than real experience to confirm your assumptions. Instead I walked away, remained in the academic world, and am still looking for a meaningful career with a decent salary. I don't regret my decision or my experience but do wish things might have worked out better. And I really wish editors received higher salaries.

Moral of the story: Know what you are getting into; do research; read about the publishing industry and know what department you'd most like to join. Spend a lot of time looking at job ads and exploring company websites.

Useful sites:
http://www.bookjobs.com/

http://www.aaupnet.org/jobs/jobslist.php

http://publishingjobs.org/

*There are, I'm sure, lots of fantastic entry-level publishing jobs out there that no doubt pay better starting salaries (like $35,000). However, being independently wealthy can't hurt; for this reason working in publishing feels dangerously close to working in academe.

Get Thee to Boot Camp: Combating Obstacles on the Non-Academic Track

2010-10-04T09:38:00.000-05:00

Over the weekend I made a mental list of the top 3 alternate careers I would most like to pursue if I either cannot find a tenure-track academic job or choose to leave the academy irrespective of my future prospects in the ivory tower.

In no particular order they are:
1. Writer/editor/researcher (in an academic, government, or corporate setting)
2. Head reference librarian (university, research, or public)
3. University administration, especially something along the lines of "associate director and/or director of ______ program" (women studies, career services, and the like)

Now, all of these options sound fairly reasonable for someone with a Ph.D. who also works as a freelance writer on the side. But there are large, disheartening obstacles attached to each alternate career I have listed. I can sorta see the light at the end of the tunnel but am unsure whether I'm 100% ready and willing to start jumping through a new set of hoops, or climbing ropes, or scaling fences, or doing push ups. (Although the intense workout would be a pretty sweet bonus in any case.)

Am I fit enough to navigate my way through?

Working as a full-time writer, in whatever setting, usually requires several years of steady employment experience. Right now I have a checkered professional history, with most of my experience involving part-time undergraduate teaching in one form or another as well as unpaid or low-paid administrative positions. I have never actually been hired by an organization to work specifically as a "writer" 9-5pm, M-F; instead I write a column, occasionally proofread for others, and publish various non-academic articles here and there, depending on the work available. Is this enough to land a job as a staff writer, despite my lack of full-time experience or references outside academe? Only time will tell.

The 2nd option, working at a library, is even more fraught with difficulties. Becoming a reference librarian requires an MLS degree in addition to the Ph.D. I have looked into this and experienced a feeling of revulsion upon learning that I would need to pay for and retake the GRE; submit undergrad transcripts; find people willing to write letters of recommendation; demonstrate mastery of a foreign language (again); and pay thousands of dollars to sit through 36 more credit hours of schooling. Um, yuck. It's not that I'm against going back to school, I just don't know if it would be worth it to me in the long run as an unemployed 30 something, when there are so many other things, I hope, that I can do with just a Ph.D. But the idea of being surrounded by books 24-7, and not having to sell anything, is awfully tempting.

Breaking into university administration sounds less than glamorous, I must admit, but it would allow me to use what I know and tap into my type-A personality skill set. I like the idea of helping to run a program and continuing to work with academics and students. But would I enjoy working with university staff and higher-up admin types on a daily basis? Again, I have no idea. Therein lies the problem. With limited administrative experience, and no experience managing people or budgets, why would anyone hire me for an administrative position when there are more than enough qualified applicants looking for work right now? My sense is that HR would place my application in the "REJECT" pile straight away, unless I had special connections. Hmm . . . need to work on establishing those connections.

In sum, I don't have a steady employment history doing, well, anything; I've spent the last 10 years in school and part-time teaching but I no longer relish the thought of teaching as much I used to; I don't have the additional qualifications necessary to work in a library; my lack of administrative experience doesn't bode well for an office job; and I haven't worked long or steadily enough as a freelance writer to prove that I'd be a good hire for a staff writer position.

Ugh, back to square one. If I was really smart I would establish a "Kick Your Soft Ph.D. Ass Into Gear" career transition boot camp. As long as the fees were low, I bet there would be plenty of takers. Who wouldn't like to tone up, lose a few pounds and prepare for a new career all in one go?

Ready to get buff and make $!?!

Translating the Value of the Liberal Arts Degree

2010-10-01T06:42:00.000-05:00

How do we reach parents and students increasingly anxious about the economic outcomes of their undergraduate degrees and still manage to convince the next generation to invest in liberal arts majors and classes? Proclaiming the "value" of the liberal arts in the abstract (good citizen, critical thinking skills, flourishing life of the mind, etc.) is no longer working, writes Richard A. Greenwald in an article today at Inside Higher Ed: http://www.insidehighered.com/views/2010/10/01/greenwald

"We need to speak more concretely to the economic as well as the intellectual value of a liberal arts degree," he observes.

I agree, of course; boy do I agree. I only wish the concrete rather than abstract value of a liberal arts degree, and now Ph.D., was clearer to me, too. I went into this at age 18 (in the beginning at least) believing that the liberal arts allowed for the greatest amount of self exploration, creative expression, reading/writing, and critical analysis, all elements I sought in a major, and especially in a lifelong career, at the time. I still seek these elements in my pursuit of a professional life but have now come to realize that they're not appreciated by the vast majority of people in the US and that getting paid a decent salary to be a well-rounded, smart, critical thinker and writer is incredibly difficult. The economic value is still lost to me personally.

So who can blame these skeptical parents and undergrads? We liberal arts majors don't usually have good news to report about our personal financial situations, at least not at the moment. Well, come to think of it, none of my friends who majored in English, history, or anthropology back in the day ended up where they would have liked. Let me give you an illustration of where they are now.

Some highly subjective but legit examples of real-world results of liberal arts degrees:
1. Waitress for a catering company ($12.00 per hr)
2. Library assistant ($15.00 per hour)
3. Library clerk ($11.00 per hr)
4. UPS driver ($10.00 per hr)
5. High school teacher ($45,000)
6. Adjunct university instructor ($12,00 per year)
7. Administrative assistant ($38,000)
8. Assoc. director of an academic program ($40,000)
9. Tenure-track professor ($50,000)
10. Freelance writer (negligible salary info.)
11. After-school programs consultant ($13.00 per hr)
12. Unemployment benefits

Where's my change?

I could list more results but the proof is in the pudding: no one I know with a liberal arts background makes more than $50K per year, and these are people in their 30s and 40s. Now, for some, a salary ranging anywhere from $12-50K, with both $12 & $50K being the result of many additional years in school, might be good enough. I say let's advise all of those people with low salary expectations (and hence no knowledge of the costs of real world living) to major in the liberal arts. Then no one will be bitter and shocked down the line.

My list is also reflective of the major "economic shift" that Greenwald talks about: "Today estimates are that over 25 percent of the American population is working as contingent labor -- freelancers, day laborers, consultants, micropreneurs. Sitting where we do it is easy to dismiss this number because we assume it comes from day laborers and the working class, i.e., the non-college-educated."

Um, NO. I don't assume it comes solely from the non-college-educated. Only someone sitting relatively pretty would make such a statement!

"Today’s liberal arts graduates will need to function in an economy that is in some ways smaller. Most will work for small firms and many will simply work on their own. They will need to multitask as well as blend work and family," he concludes.

None of this sounds that promising to me as a job-seeking Ph.D. in my 30s. Can't imagine how it would sound if I was 18.

Why Being on the Academic Job Market Sucks: Part II

2010-09-27T20:43:00.000-05:00

Discovering the Declining Market Value of Your Research Speciality
So I caffeinated myself this morning and sat down to take inventory of all the advertised tenure-track job openings in my particular historical field/chronological period, and the resulting list is pretty grim. OK, I'll be totally straight with you: it sucks. In fact, saying I made "a list" of the jobs that I both am qualified for and would accept if offered sounds silly since there are only 3 jobs in total.

Back in August, I predicted that the 2010-11 academic job market was going to be bleak for people like me, that is Ph.D.s who are neither A.B.D. "stars" nor specialize in currently trendy, for whatever reason, fields/regions/sujects/time periods. (In history the trend thing is relatively unpredictable and has ranged widely in recent years from environmental, Western, and Native American history to Middle Eastern, African, and Atlantic world history. Right now Asian history is having its heyday, if you want to call it that.)

One minute your major research topic can be "hot"; the next minute, it's OUT, ala Project Runway. However, the obvious difference is that clothing designers might spend at most a few months working on a new look before discovering it fails to measure up to the fashion world's latest whim. Academics spend years and years (even decades) researching, writing, rewriting, publicizing, agonizing over, waiting for feedback on, and, finally, publishing their work.

If a historian's special niche topic, which required multiple overseas research trips over a period of 5-6 years, suddenly lacks lustre in the academic marketplace, due primarily to external factors, what's one to do? Start over? Chuck the entire thing or tear it to shreds like last season's gown? Change topics or fields? Pretend to specialize in the Mediterranean world? No, the reasonable thing to do is press on with one's original topic and hope for the best, a tactic that may or may not work out in a junior historian's favor but is nonetheless the only option for most of us.

Of course, it's feasible that we junior scholars could simply walk away, say "to hell with it," and start exploring new non-academic career possibilities, so long as they absolutely do not involve spending multiple years on a magnum opus with little, or 0, market value. But walking away from this brutal market is a simultaneously liberating and terrifying prospect. I would feel immediate, intense relief if I stopped laboring at something that no one really wants to employ me full-time to keep producing. If there is no demand for what I'm selling, why continue to sell it? If my one-woman ship is going down, why not grab the nearest lifeboat and make for shore? (Really, how many metaphors do I need to construct before it finally sinks in that my work is not even valued by academe?)

Get me off this shinking ship-stat!

Yet I've invested years of my life and plenty of money and emotional energy on my academic career and particular subject matter. International institutions have given me grants and fellowships to support my research program and keep this sinking ship afloat, even though no one wants to commit to me for the long haul. Setting a match to my academic efforts thus far would feel like such a waste. But, as a lowly individual job seeker, I have no control over the academic marketplace. I have no control over anything other than my own decisions. Too bad I'm so damn indecisive.

Colbert Before Congress: Happy Friday!

2010-09-24T14:31:00.002-05:00

Careers in Corporate Communications

2010-09-24T07:35:00.000-05:00

Interested in transitioning from the ivory tower to Wall Street? Think the reading, writing, and analytical skills you acquired in graduate school, and perhaps beyond, would work well in a high pressure (but well paid) corporate setting? Sick of living in your parent's basement or a dull, dumpy, isolated college town!?

Then check out my latest Inside Higher Ed "On the Fence" column: From Academe to Wall Street. In this piece, I chat with "Sally White," a former medieval professor turned Wall Street writer and novelist who successfully transitioned out of academe in the 1980s. Sally has not only had a fascinating career, she also has many useful and specific pearls of wisdom to share with Ph.D.s considering non-academic employment options, especially in the private sector.

http://www.insidehighered.com/advice/on_the_fence/woolf6

Comments and questions about the interview are welcome and will be read by both Sally and myself!

Public domain image

Off Subject: A Light Hearted Antidote to the Tea Partiers

2010-09-23T12:49:00.001-05:00

Order now at http://imvotingteaparty.com/ !

Off Subject
Tired of all the Tea Party "take back America" hype? Feel sick to your stomach when you hear statements like the following by Sarah Palin, Queen Tea Partier, on Fox News: "I would offer myself up in the name of service to the public and run for President in 2012 if nobody else wanted to step up." Desperately need a laugh (and maybe even a new T-shirt) because the Tea Partiers have got you down?

Why not drop by the I'm Voting Tea Party website @ http://imvotingteaparty.com/ and pick up a T-shirt designed by Jeremy Kalgreen. I'm partial to the "Obama Won't Let Me Hunt the Homeless for Sport" T in navy but also think the "Obama Won't Force Muslims to Worship Jesus" T in chocolate brown is pretty good as well. It's a tough call, really; perhaps go for both? ("Obama Won't Nuke Canada" is also a gem.)

Order now at http://imvotingteaparty.com !

*NB: I am in no way affiliated with, nor do I benefit from, the I'm Voting Tea Party website and its products, other than feeling vicarious glee when anyone sticks it to the Tea Party.

Student Excuses: Some Things Never Change

2010-09-22T17:29:00.001-05:00

Public domain image

Grandparents are always dropping dead left and right at the beginning, middle, and end of the university semester or quarter system. Somewhere out there is a graveyard of unfortunate grandparents who never lived to see their grandkids make it through their first semester of college. "I couldn't submit my paper on time because I had to attend my grandma's funeral," is a fairly common statement made by American undergraduate students. (See the recent Chronicle of Higher Ed news piece on the "dead grandma phenomenon" for more classic examples: http://chronicle.com/blogPost/New-Semester-Results-in-Huge/27084/)

In my time as a teaching assistant/instructor in the history department at Comprehensive National University (CNU), I fielded a myriad of comments, complaints, and concerns from students who worried they'd be penalized because of a family tragedy, a case of the stomach flu, a car accident, a family ski trip, a dramatic break-up, a 3-day old rancid burrito, a birthday party, an infectious spider bite, or a freak case of twisted testicles (I kid you not!) Mostly, these cases of student excuses bordered on the dull and tedious (a dead grandma, a twisted ankle, food poisoning, and the like). They all had the same lame reason for not submitting a paper or coming to class. It was a rare day when one of these students actually blew me away with their creativity and/or deviousness, or just plain bad luck, as in the case of the testicles mentioned above. NB: That guy had a signed note from the local ER, BTW, so it was pretty clear it was legit.

The thing is, undergrads are notorious for waiting until 3am to start a paper or study for an exam. Sure, they might have had 4 weeks to prep for the paper or exam but they're sure as hell not going to plan in advance! Start a paper one week early? Are you joking? Study for several nights before an exam? Are you nuts?! It's not that they're universally lazy or apathetic, they're just . . . busy. Really busy. Just ask my 20-yr old younger sibling. And lest anyone think I'm being overly harsh, remember I was an undergrad once too. Although I never claimed to have a dead grandma or a case of twisted testicles which prevented me from completing an assignment. But that's just me.

When tasks and deadlines therefore inevitably start to mount up come exam or paper time, and undergrads began to feel suddenly overwhelmed, the natural solution for many students is to fish around for a reasonable excuse: like a dead grandma. No one wants to admit the obvious: "I'm just so freakin tired and behind schedule because I stay up late with my friends most nights drinking and partying and hardly have time to read and write or think. I have to take all of these boring courses, including your's, and write all these pointless papers, when I'd really rather be doing something else. Anything else. So can you just, like, get over yourself and your "standards" and let me turn the paper in later, when I'm up to it? What's the big deal anyway? It's just a stupid history paper."

What they don't realize is that when they're speaking to me after class and saying, "Blah, blah, blah, can't turn in paper/take exam because my grandma yada yada yada . . ." what I hear is, "I don't give a sh@! about this class; you're just a sucker like the rest of them; I've got better things to do." And so on. They speak, but I hear what they're really saying; we all do. We're not dumb. So let's just skip the pretense and start getting honest with one another, students. It will save everyone time and emotional energy and not place a death jinx on grandma.

Are You a Job Market "Star"?

2010-09-21T07:41:00.001-05:00

Public domain image

Recently, over at the Chronicle of Higher Education forums (see thread: http://chronicle.com/forums/index.php/topic,72036.0.html), academics employed on the tenure track at mid-tier universities have been discussing whether or not search committees should automatically eliminate "star" candidates from the applicant pool. Who are these so-called stars? Why exactly are members of search committees concerned about them?

The query began like this:
"So, those of you who've been on search committees: do you eliminate the star candidates if you deem them unlikely to accept or stay? There's a stellar candidate in our pool, for example, and I would be shocked if this person had less than five top offers. . . . My hunch is not to bother interviewing such candidates and risk failed searches in a time of such scarcity with [tenure-track faculty] lines. I don't even see why she'd stay at our school if she somehow took the job. . ."

For those of us currently on the 2010-11 academic job market such questions seem both premature and absurd. Have they seen the job advertisements this year? Don't they know what were working with here? Of course, there will always be academic "stars" who really will receive numerous offers even during periods of bleak market prospects. These are the folks with elite pedigrees and hot research; powerful, well-connected, and active advisors; a large and supportive academic network of supporters and referees; numerous fellowships and peer-reviewed publications (even at the ABD stage); solo teaching experience; and either a book contract in hand with a top press or a book already forthcoming (or even just released).

Are you one of these lucky people, by chance? I can assure you that I am not. My pedigree, though easily recognizable, is not "elite"; my research is far from searing hot right now (there are only a couple of jobs in my subfield in any case); my advisor is active but not a powerhouse; my international network of connections is limited; I have won numerous fellowships, presented at tons of conferences, and published, but I have yet to publish a string of articles or secure a book contract. I am, in other words, a strong candidate but not an excellent one, not a star by any stretch of the imagination. During flush times someone like me would no doubt have already received a tenure-track offer. Now, however, with limited tenure-track faculty openings and all these "stars" darting about the academic stratosphere, I and others like me apparently don't stand much of a chance, even at mid-tier unis with heavier teaching loads or those in blatantly undesirable locations.

Or do we? Forum debates such as the one linked to above indicate that there are quite a few prejudiced tenured and tenure-track academics out there on search committees. They are deeply wary of stars, preferring to hire someone good but not amazing, someone who will stick around so the hiring department won't lose the line down the road. But how do search committees separate the shining stars from the meteorites? How can they tell who is truly serious and committed and who is merely treading water until something better comes along? What to do?

One respondent suggested the following compromise: "We have this conversation in my department every year (and its variant, the should-we-list-this-person-who-already-has-a-great-job conversation). Our solution is to aim for a range of types on the short list: the rising star (if we don't list this person, the dean will say we're seeking mediocrity...), the star with the good job, BUT ALSO the excellent candidate who might be more likely to fly under other people's radar. And every now and then, someone from one of the first two categories will in fact accept our offer-- you can never tell what motivates people. Still, we've had more than one failed search lately."

Or, as another respondent noted, "My guess is that you don't have 3 candidates that are huge stars, so, why not just interview the one star as a long shot, and then you'll probably really get one of the two other "normal" people."

So, it seems, we "normal" earthlings do stand a chance, if and only if the applicant pool is not full of rising and already-employed stars; if these same people end up with multiple offers; AND if the hiring department aims for a range of types on the short list. But, honestly, even though I know I'm not a mediocre candidate, I'm still not holding my breath. As one anonymous search committee member noted, "I think we are now experiencing what some humanities folks have been experiencing for a long-time -- a glut of really great candidates. So, someone mediocre is just not in the cards."

Writing a Column: My Guest Post at The Urban Muse

2010-09-17T09:01:00.003-05:00

Today I'm guest blogging at The Urban Muse, Susan Johnston's popular website for freelance writers, on the following topic: "How to Land Your Own Online Column."

Here's a brief taste:
"Many freelance writers dream of becoming a weekly, bi-monthly, or monthly columnist for a major online publication. As a columnist, the work is steady, you have a built-in audience, and, depending on the focus of the column, you’re essentially expected—and paid—to write first-person opinion pieces. The column becomes, over time, an individualized public meditation, a series of related articles showcasing your personal viewpoint on a particular subject. Done well, a regular column will accrue a dedicated readership (and keep you steadily employed).

What more could a non-fiction author ask for?"

But things are, of course, not always as simple as they seem!

Check out the rest of the guest post, and my pointers for pitching a column, here:
http://www.urbanmusewriter.com/

From The Urban Muse website

Getting a Ph.D.: Often Not the Best Time of Your Life

2010-09-15T09:14:00.000-05:00

Public domain image

The inspiration for this post came to me after reading a news piece on Inside Higher Ed this morning: 'When College Is Not the Best Time' (Sept. 15, 2010; http://www.insidehighered.com/news/2010/09/15/leibow). Serena Golden interviewed David Leibow, assistant clinical professor of psychiatry at Columbia University and author of the new book, What to Do When College Is Not the Best Time of Your Life (Columbia University Press), asking him about the biggest problems faced by college students (i.e. undergrads) today. It turns out that financial or relationship difficulties are less likely to pose a significant problem for college students than academics.

According to Leibow, "College students want to succeed. They want to fulfill their own ambitions and make their parents proud. If their grades are low, and especially if they're forced to delay graduation or drop out, they feel demoralized and ashamed. Plans for further education are scrapped; career aspirations are abandoned; life trajectories are thrown off-course. If they were meeting their own expectations academically and had a few friends, most college students would be happy. And they'd be in a better position to deal with the other challenges that inevitably come along."

I am no longer a college student, and don't plan to become one ever again, but I can certainly relate to the feelings mentioned above. In fact, let's replace "college students" with Ph.D.s, and make a few other changes, and then see how the same paragraph takes on a new meaning:

"~~College students~~ Ph.D.s really want to succeed. They want to fulfill their own ambitions and make their parents proud; and would particularly like to find a job after spending their entire lives in an academic bubble. If their ~~grades~~ chances of gainful/meaningful employment are low, and especially if they're forced to delay graduation or drop out or leave the ivory tower entirely, they feel demoralized and ashamed. Their judgemental advisors, and the seeming life of ease enjoyed by other, successful academics on the tenure track, make them feel like shit. They turn to drink or drugs or bad T.V. and contemplate teaching high school. Plans for further education are scrapped (I mean, really, what's the point anymore?); career aspirations are abandoned (tenure-track job? HA! As if!); life trajectories are thrown off-course (subsistence farming in someone's backyard becomes a distinct possibility). If they were meeting their own expectations academically, found work after graduation, got laid, and had a few friends, most ~~college students~~ Ph.D.s would be pretty happy. (This is because they still believe the myths of the tenure track). And they'd be in a better position to deal with the other challenges that inevitably come along, like their own imminent mortality."

AMEN.

Myths of the Tenure Track

2010-09-14T21:01:00.001-05:00

Public domain image

Guest Post by Benjamin Harrison
As I consider the prospect of leaving academe (or, “leaping from the ivory tower” to borrow WorstProfessorEver’s felicitous phrase), and get to know more people who are already out on the ledge, I find myself wondering, “How in the world did we get here? How did we find ourselves in jobs that are so far from our original goal?”

While in graduate school, I had many conversations about the future and, no matter how drunk I became, I never said, “I’d like to teach at a mediocre school. I want to be thrilled when 1/3 of my students do the reading. I want to teach broad surveys to students with no interest in the humanities, who I’ll never see again. I want my research to wither and die for lack of funding.” And I’m damn sure that when my friend Hoboken Jones (pseud.) finished his doctorate at Ivy U, his career plans did not include “Come in second in multiple job searches, and spend years on end adjuncting for lousy pay.” How, then, do really smart (or at least well-educated) people find themselves stuck in lousy jobs and careers when other options are available?

The answer lies in two myths that prevail in most graduate programs. For their entire graduate careers students are told, and tell each other, that getting a tenure-track job is the alpha and omega of their studies. What is more, students come to believe that landing on the tenure track leads inevitably to professional fulfilment. This message is problematic on a number of fronts. Most obviously, the ongoing collapse of the job market places success beyond the reach of many scholars. But the “tenure track = success” message also omits the fact that – to be frank – many tenure-track jobs are not all that great. Whether it’s the workload, working conditions, or location, many of those who land tenure-track positions find academe lacking in important ways.

To be clear, I do not believe that graduate advisors knowingly set up their students for disappointment. But I do think that professors at Berkeley, Chicago and Yale have no earthly idea what life is like at chronically underfunded, third- and fourth-tier universities. They’ve never taught students who are unprepared for college. They don’t know that the pay at many schools is too low to support a family. They have never had to pay for conference registration out of their own pockets. But how could they know these things? Graduate advisors are among the lucky ones, “The lottery winners, those with light teaching loads, sabbaticals, and research support.” They travel through life blissfully ignorant of how the other eight-tenths live; and if I were in one of these good jobs, I would not even consider leaving. I don’t have a particularly good solution to this problem. Simply informing graduate faculty and students of this reality will do no good. If the demonstrable horror of the job market does not dissuade a graduate student, complaints from a few malcontents on the tenure track are unlikely to make any difference. Every student is convinced that she will be the one to grab the brass ring.

The second myth that sustains miserable faculty is that with enough hard work, a good scholar can publish his way out of an undesirable job. While this may have been true ten, fifteen or twenty years ago, in today’s world the “starter job” is no more real than Bigfoot. No matter how good your CV, if there are no jobs, there are no jobs. But myths are more comforting than reality. The myth of “writing your way out” allows us to continue believing that while the academic hiring process is cruel and capricious, academe as a whole remains a meritocracy. Good scholars can find good jobs.

The perpetuation of the “write your way out” myth is pernicious and demonstrably at odds with reality, but survives because it serves a number of powerful interests. Most obviously, it comforts young faculty when they discover that their library has not purchased any books in their field since 1975. “No problem,” I told myself four years ago. “I won’t be here long.” Second, it comforts graduate advisors. If their students wind up with a 4-4 teaching load and no research support, it’s because their work is substandard, not because academe rewards excellent scholars with mediocre jobs. While no advisor wishes unhappiness on her protégés, it’s much easier to stomach an underperforming student than to admit that you are sending all your students into unsatisfying careers.

Finally, this myth allows schools to treat their faculty badly. For as long as junior scholars continue to believe that one more grant, article, or monograph will allow them to move up the academic ladder, they will tolerate lousy conditions for low pay. If the day ever comes that masses of junior faculty realize that their current job is as good as it gets, universities will have a problem. But to any administrator who might read this and consider raising salaries, renovating classrooms, and increasing the library’s budget, don’t worry. Even if your faculty start fleeing in droves, there are plenty more where they came from. The myth is that durable.

Science Ph.D.s are Hurting Too . . . Big Time

2010-09-09T18:18:00.001-05:00

On the Fence Recommends:
Check out this great new blog hosted by The Guardian, "Punctuated Equilibrium," written by a science Ph.D. searching for work in the U.K.:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/science/punctuated-equilibrium/2010/aug/31/1

Here's a taste:
"Like most people, I always wanted to be a success; I was born wanting to accomplish something worthwhile that would justify my existence on this planet. So even though I worked long and hard to make myself into a success, I've only managed to succeed at failure.

Even though I managed to work my way through to the PhD and I also managed to win a postdoctoral fellowship, my efforts to progress beyond that stage were stymied. Frustrated with my inability to find a job – any job – I fell back on the one thing I've always done since I first could pick up a crayon: I wrote about it. Except this time, instead of hiding my words under my mattress, I wanted to make my frustrations public. Because I knew thousands of other young scientists also shared my sense of betrayal, I wished to remain anonymous, to give voice to their outrage as well as my own. So I started a blog. . ."

*Turns out it's not only humanities Ph.D.s who are hurting right now . . . but blogging clearly helps! (Amen to that.)

Prep School Applications: The Cover Letter

2010-09-09T15:40:00.000-05:00

Guest Post by Benjamin Harrison

Once you’ve rewritten your CV for an audience of prep school teachers and administrators, you need to do the same with your cover letter. As with your CV, your prep school cover letter should be half as long as your college/university cover letter – between 1 and 1½ pages is ideal. As with all letters of this sort, it is an art, rather than a science, so what I offer here is just one way of selling yourself.

Part I: Who are you and why are you writing to them? This is not unlike the opening of your higher education letter. Who are you and where are you from? For what job are you applying? It is also here that you need to start explaining why you want to jump to a secondary school. Your fancy degree is well and good, but your reader will be curious, wary, or even suspicious of your motives. Does he really want to teach in a college but can’t find a job? Did she fail to get tenure? No school wants to be your Plan B, so you have to convince them that they’re Plan A. (It helps to convince yourself of this first, but that’s for a different post.)

Part II: Why do you want to teach at a prep school? I believe that this is perhaps the most important paragraph in your letter, and is the first point of divergence from the higher ed letter. You’re fundamentally unlike most applicants new to the prep school market. These folks, bright and shiny with their newly minted Bachelor’s degrees, finished college and decided to teach at a prep school. You, on the other hand, finished college and decided not to teach at a prep school. Why have you changed your mind? Nobody gets a doctorate so they can teach prep school, so what gives?

Part III: Why should they hire you? Here you need to make clear how your experience in grad school and/or on the tenure track has prepared you for teaching at a prep school. What classes can you teach? Why is your approach to teaching well-suited for prep schools in general and their prep school in particular? (You will want to look closely at the school’s mission website for this. A department chair at a college might not know what the mission statement is, but you should assume that the headmaster at a prep school does.) Other than an extremely detailed knowledge of pre-colonial leather-working practices of the Tuareg, what do you have to offer?

Part IV: Closing. Nothing too fancy here. Some people include the extracurricular activities that they are interested in advising, which might not be a bad idea. There is a rather strange idea floating around that prep schools require their teachers to coach. Simply put, this is not true. Some private schools have very good athletic programs, and they didn’t get that way by asking people with no knowledge or interest in sports to design a third-down blitz package. What schools will want, however, is service outside the classroom. Want to advise the science club? The student paper? Now is the time to let them know, but remember that the important part is demonstrating that you know about this requirement and are willing to do your part.

*Next up, the personal statement!

Save the Humanities: Start Making Money!

2010-09-09T06:47:00.000-05:00

'No-Brainer': Public domain image

If you're a humanities Ph.D. like me and you've read the recent piece in The Chronicle Review, "Can the Humanities Survive the 21st Century?" (http://chronicle.com/article/Can-the-Humanities-Survive-the/124222/) you may be wondering why you bothered to spend years of your life training to educate and enlighten the masses about the value of critical thinking, reading, and writing. Because let's face it: the masses, generally speaking, and the techno-savvy, permanently distracted, twittering and text-messaging youth of the 21st century in particular, just don't care anymore. They're more interested in attaining the basic technical skills necessary to land a job that will propel them post haste into the middle class. Shakespeare, Plato, Jefferson, Douglass, King, Woolf, DuBois, hooks, and the like; these venerable oldies are for 20th century sissies . . . or trust fund babies.

My (much) younger siblings and their friends spend more time on their i-phones trolling facebook and sending IMs than they ever would on reading, writing essays, debating heady topics, and pondering the fate of humanity. They're certainly not reading the newspaper, or intelligent popular novels, or humanist non-fiction; nor are they watching PBS or independent films. These things are for older, idealistic saps like me, motivated people who spent WAY too much time with their noses in books rather than learning useful skills and making $ in their 20s. Consequently, while we smarties may have interesting things to say about the state of the Congo, or climate change, or Beck's whacked out tea party, we're nonetheless still looking for work, still poor, and living in our parents' basements or some other pathetic location. Ouch.

And, according to Frank Donoghue, even if we're lucky enough to find academic jobs as tenure-track professors, our struggle to publish in obscure journals and write dense monographs for tenure simply contributes to the self-contained, esoteric system responsible for making the humanities increasingly irrelevant to society and hence worthless.

"The shift in the material base of the university leaves the humanities entirely out in the cold. Corporations don't earmark donations for the humanities because our research culture is both self-contained and absurd. Essentially, we give the copyrights of our scholarly articles and monographs to university presses, and then buy them back, or demand that our libraries buy them back, at exorbitant markups. And then no one reads them. The current tenure system obliges us all to be producers of those things, but there are no consumers."

I have to agree with Donoghue here: the current tenure system requires academics to buy into a culture of intellectual production with limited (or virtually no) public demand or consumption, and this just doesn't make smart long term financial sense. Such a ridiculous system cannot be sustained indefinitely. We're simply shooting ourselves in the foot with our low-traffic journal articles and overpriced academic tomes that only mom and dad are willing to buy (mainly so they can show their friends what a Ph.D. and five+ years of research and writing has produced).

What is the solution, then? How can academics save the humanities? "The humanities will have a home somewhere in 2110, but it won't be in universities," Donoghue concludes. I don't think we should give up on the humanities just yet within the context of higher ed, but it is becoming clearer to me that humanist thinkers and practioners need to start considering how to go about making meaningful, relevant contributions that the masses can understand and appreciate. Otherwise, our self-contained, profitless research culture will put us all out of work sooner rather than later.

But academics as a whole are so resistant to change and so slow to respond to social and culture trends. Tenured humanities professors would rather pooh-pooh criticisms about the devaluing of the humanities than really explain why history or English matters or, worse still, reconsider "the system " itself.

This humanist, however, is here to say that the humanities are important; critical thinking does matter; and yes, people who know how to think, read, and write well should get paid well. Very well. Can't we show the public what we've got to offer instead of keeping it all to ourselves? Isn't it time we started demonstarting our worth and demanding compensation for our efforts? Show me the money, I say, either inside or outside a university context, and I'm there. It's a no-brainer.

*PS-I'll be traveling over the next week and lax on my blogging duties.

Putting together a Prep School Application: The CV

2010-09-07T00:52:00.000-05:00

Public domain image

Guest Post by Benjamin Harrison

Perhaps the biggest mistake that you (a Ph.D. hoping to make the jump to prep school teaching) can make is to neglect revamping your application materials. Many prep schools are suspicious that a candidate with a Ph.D. is applying out of desperation rather than any real desire to teach at the high school level. An application that seems more appropriate for a position in higher education will only confirm that suspicion.

While many top private schools look like high-end colleges, this does not mean that you should apply with the same set of materials. No matter how much a school looks like a small New England college, it’s still a high school, and they’re looking for high school teachers. In short, when crafting a CV, cover letter and personal statement, you need to start from scratch. Remember that the underlying goal of all your materials is to make clear that your interest in teaching at the secondary level is genuine. You signal this implicitly when you put together your vita, and explicitly when you write your cover letter and personal statement. If you cannot provide a good explanation for making this move, they aren’t going to help you make it.

As a rule of thumb, everything you submit to a prep school should be half as long as it would be for a university position: Your CV and personal statement each should fit on two pages, and your cover-letter on one. My vita includes the following sections, in order:

1. Teaching and advising experience. This is a twist on the “Employment History” section of your old CV. The difference is that you don’t simply list the positions you have held. Rather, explain how what you’ve done at the collegiate level is appropriate for the high school level. Emphasize your contact with students in smaller classes, and any experience you might have as a mentor. For example:

Visiting Assistant Professor, Small Town College, Small Town, USA

• Taught classes of 15-25 students on _______, _____ and _____ with emphasis on ____, ___ and ______.

• Identified failing students early in the semester and worked with them individually to ensure their success.

• Advised College poetry club and oversaw publication of Small Town College Poetry Review.

2. Education. Keep it brief. Omit the names of your advisor and dissertation committee, and the title of your dissertation. To be blunt, they have never heard of Professor Bigname, and don’t care about the subject or historiographical significance of your research.

3. Courses Taught. Just provide a list.

4. Other Experience. Have you done any work with high-school age kids? Were you a camp counsellor? Did you volunteer through Big Brothers/Sisters or coach a little league team? Here’s where you can tell them.

5. Publications. Some might argue with including them at all, but I do. When the list of new faculty goes out to Mom and Dad, the administration will be happy to say, “Dr. Harrison’s book on the nature of presidential power will be released by Fancy University Press in the fall.”

6. References. Just a list here. If you are using Carney Sandoe or another placement firm, you won’t have to worry about arranging to have them sent, but include the names and contact information here.

*Next up – your personal statement!

Introducing "Benjamin Harrison": Regular Guest Contributor

2010-09-06T17:01:00.001-05:00

My name is "Benjamin Harrison" (a pseudonym), and I’m jumping off the tenure track. For the last few years, I’ve been an assistant professor in the humanities at a non-flagship state university. I was one of about a hundred applicants, so when I got the job I felt lucky. I moved my family here, and we thought I/we could be happy, but it has turned out otherwise.

The largest issue is family. I just can't raise my kids here. The state is incredibly insular: the top grads from the top high schools go to, not Harvard, or Berkeley, or Williams or anywhere else that requires an essay portion on the application, but to Huge State University because they have a famous football team and are the only school on anyone's radar.

There are also financial issues. I have not received a raise in four years, and none are on the horizon. (When I earn tenure, that raise will be about 5%, so I'll get back a bit less than inflation has taken away.) There is little institutional money for archival research, and nowhere near enough for a trip overseas - which is where my archives are. While my children could attend the university at which I teach at a 50% discount, I would pay full-freight to send them to a university in the same system.

Obviously I am far from alone in this situation. The good news for most third-tier institutions such as mine is that the majority of humanities faculty have concluded that the sacrifices are worth it. They may not be happy with their current situation but if that is the only way to stay in academe, they are willing to do what it takes.

I have come to a different conclusion: In the coming academic year I will search for a job teaching at the secondary level, and blog about my experience here. My goal is to provide some insight into the process for other Ph.D.s and A.B.D.s who are considering a similar move, and perhaps a forum for discussion.

More Crackdowns on the Lone Star Professoriate

2010-09-06T00:14:00.002-05:00

Have you heard? Professors in the College of Public Affairs and Community Service at the University of North Texas will soon be required to spend a minimum of four hours a day, four days per week, on campus. According to the new policy, adopted last week, the extra faculty face time is intended, in theory, to allow students greater access to professors and more easily facilitate interdisciplinary collaboration.
For more on the story, see
http://chronicle.com/article/Professors-at-U-of-North/124308/

Sounds like another top-down Lone Star higher ed accountability measure to me. Speaking of which . . . A&M faculty are not taking the new, "silly" evaluation measures lying down. [For more on this earlier story, see below, "What's WRONG with Texas?"] They're doing what professors do best: discoursing and objecting (politely and on paper, of course).

For the Newbies: Book Proposal Reviews Revealed

2010-09-05T22:55:00.000-05:00

Public domain image

Today I had the opportunity to examine the generic "score" sheet sent out to MS book proposal reviewers by MUP [pseudonym for Major University Press], one of the most highly respected academic presses in existence. While I've known for some time that presses such as MUP are interested in the suitability of proposed books for use in the classroom, I had no idea that the undergraduate market played such a huge role in editorial decisions. To be sure, many scholarly monographs find their way into the hands of graduate students, but I wouldn't expect undergraduates to read 90% of the texts produced by academic presses.

Notable exceptions are biographies, microhistories, neat surveys, and the like. But to think that large numbers of history professors would assign a theoretically sophisticated, overly academic book like Dror Wahrman's excellent The Making of the Modern Self (published by YUP & winner of multiple prestigious awards) in their undergraduate courses is a bit of a stretch.

However, on MUP's score sheet queries along the lines of "Does the proposed MS in question make a significant contribution to the existing historiography?" are absent. Marketing considerations, particularly those related to textbook course assignments, dominate. In addition to questions one would expect to see about the quality of the proposal itself, MS reviewers are asked to provide the following information:

Q. List the last four courses that you taught.

Q. What books did you assign for each course?

Q. Were these books effective? Why or why not? Will you assign them again?

Q. Would you assign the proposed book in one of your courses?

Q. Between 1-10, rate the book proposal on how likely you are to assign the finished book.

Q. What changes would you propose to better suit the proposed book for courses?

Q. What are the competing titles that instructors would assign in class? How does this book compare to these titles?

Q. Would you recommend this book to fellow course instructors?

And so on.

The larger point is: never assume that an academic or commercial press will pick up your 1st book on merit alone. The textbook market plays a critical role. Without a market in which to place and sell your book, the press has little reason to publish it, even if it is amazingly brilliant.

Why Being on the Academic Job Market Sucks: Part I

2010-09-04T19:30:00.000-05:00

Public domain image

Every fall thousands of hopeful Ph.D. and A.B.D. job candidates everywhere fantasize about landing a great academic teaching/research post, preferably one that's tenure track. Financially, most of are pretty poor or, at best, living uncomfortably from month to month. I, for example, know of no one in my current professional state-of-being category (a low-level assistant professor, visiting professor, or postdoc) who is living large and rolling in cash. Instead, we're all looking under couch cushions, counting our pennies, and deleting threatening debt collection messages from our home answering machines. (Or, if we're really clever and still use mom and dad's house as our "permanent address," despite our mature age, we tell our parents to delete the messages.)

What we have to look forward to this fall/winter, however, are increasing expenses associated with the academic job search: postage, paper, envelopes, transcript fees, dossier service fees, photocopying fees, conference registration fees, hotel fees, and the real killer, airline fees.

While the economy remains relatively stagnant at present, the price of plane tickets is on the rise. Sure, it's better for the airlines, but what about us? Paying premium prices to fly to conferences and interviews is a job seeker's worst nightmare. Nonetheless, according to the NYTimes, "Air fares have marched steadily upward in recent months and are now close to pre-recession levels — and that’s not even counting all the fees that airlines have introduced lately."

This price increase dovetails with a significant decrease in the number of flights, and destinations, offered by airlines. So we're not only paying more to fly around the country, and perhaps earth, in search of employment, we're also going out of our way to get there. "For the airlines, flying fewer and fuller planes has paid off," notes the NYT; but "Passengers are paying the price."

Expensive plane tickets are one thing, of course, but having to wait until the last minute to purchase them is even worse. And this is precisely the situation that most (fortunate) job seekers find themselves in after Thanksgiving. We're anxiously waiting for the phone to ring, or looking for a message in our email inbox, hoping our efforts and myriad job applications were not in vain. We're praying someone on the other end of the line will say, "I'd like to invite you to interview with us at the A.H.A. in Boston next month . . ." [Or the M.L.A. or other major conference of your choosing.]

When this does happen the response is frequently, "Yay! Great news! I've got a shot. But wait, oh crap, oh f@!*, now plane tickets have reached nightmarish proportions! Flying from middle of nowhere U.S.A. to Boston will require driving 2 hours to the airport, making 3 transfers, spending 8 hours in transit, and cost me $600 out of pocket. All for 1, maybe 2, interviews."(I flew all the way to San Diego last January for 1 interview. Yes, I will admit it.)

What to do?"

"'My advice now is don’t procrastinate if you’re planning to travel over the holidays,' said Rick Seaney, the chief executive of FareCompare.com, a travel Web site."

Gee, thanks for the great advice.

For the rest of the article, click here:
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/09/05/business/05air.html?_r=1