Dr. Curmudgeon, Cat Herder

Back in grad school, one of my colleagues used to suggest that getting the grad students to do something as one was like herding cats. I agreed, though I found there was on crucial exception.

I'd been wondering what to do about helping our new faculty member settle in. When I arrived, I had a couple of good friends, and so I wasn't so worried about finding other things to do (though when they left, wow, did it look stark). But I don't do much these days, because I'm focused on paying things off and saving some little bit in anticipation of moving. And there are weird dynamics that could play in: gender, proximity to tenure, cultural backgrounds, etc, etc.

Finally this week, I realized that the thing to do was to rely on what I'm good at. That crucial exception in graduate school could apply here, too. Back in the day, I was a pretty good at feline wrangling, at least when it came to getting them to the bar. And why wouldn't that work here, particularly when one of the things I've lamented about the place is there's not so much cohesion among the faculty? And if one new faculty member might've been having trouble finding some social activity, wouldn't many of them. And so, the call to the bar went out.

I'm proud to say it worked, with about 12 people showing up, and several apologizing because of prior commitments. I think some good connections were made - the folks in Women's Studies, for example, seemed to find some new allies. And a few people have even asked to have it happen again.

I wonder what they'd do if I counted it as service?

Now the Student Has Become the Master (an "Ah, hell..." moment)

In honor of the music meme that has made these few days of blogging so much easier, I was tempted to title this "Maybe I'm just like my father: 2 bold." The sense that we become our parents - or our advisers - is palpable.

Plus this way, I can reference kung fu.

When I was in grad school, one of the ways I came to choose my committee was to watch how various departmental members behaved at the defenses and presentations of others. At the Ph.D. level there was never a question of who my adviser was going to be though. My work was close to what my adviser's was and far from what anyone else did.

At defenses, my adviser was known - or I knew - did two things: make faces at answers they didn't like and, sooner or later, ask the same question. It isn't to say that they were a one-hit wonder, though they were pretty entrenched in a particular view of the world. But the question was about something they saw as fundamentally lacking in most critiques of things (at least in American critiques). Sometimes the question was more valid than others. But you could count on it happening.

Back here in the present, where I've earned my wings and am advising my own monkeys, I just found myself writing the same question on my best student's paper. And though it was appropriate - and my advisee started it - still, I have a slight chill. I guess I'll just hope that my dragon style is up to the task.