...same smart-ass sensibility.
We've got a bit of a redesign here at Curmudgeon labs. Hope you like it. Let me know if things are a bit tough on the eyes, and I'll see what I can do about tweaking in the coming days.
Showing posts with label blogging. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blogging. Show all posts
Inspirations
I'm proud to report that in spite of ridiculously cold temperatures, my ya-ya's remain unfrozen (though slushy - and what's a ya-ya anyway?). There isn't much to report about jobs or teaching today, which is great because there's much more important news: Brigindo gave me an award!
That's right, people of the Intertubes, Curmudgeon has arrived. What glory must follow!
Really, I'm touched, because there are days where I feel like I'm shouting into a tin can with a loose string (readers under 25, this is a reference to a toy kids used to make that has since been rendered culturally obsolete by the advent of wireless and cellular phones. It was, at best, only a slightly humorous reference. You may still applaud, however). Plus, Brigindo said I'm funny which is about as a good a reward as you can give me (baked goods, obviously, give this a run for the money).
As with all things rewards, there are obligations (though these are fairly pleasant, as you'll see shortly). In this case, I've been asked to do the following:
But remember the pleasant obligations I mentioned? It's nominating seven blogs. One of the things that I've been thinking about were the blogs that I've been missing. And so some of my recognition will be for blogs that I loved that have since vanished on me. In that category, I'd like to applaud and ask to come back are:
That said, onto the still around category, there are a few folks I'd like to give some props to
I'll be updating the side list of blogs shortly; there are some that I've been reading that aren't there. If I've got your address wrong, please let me know.
That's right, people of the Intertubes, Curmudgeon has arrived. What glory must follow!Really, I'm touched, because there are days where I feel like I'm shouting into a tin can with a loose string (readers under 25, this is a reference to a toy kids used to make that has since been rendered culturally obsolete by the advent of wireless and cellular phones. It was, at best, only a slightly humorous reference. You may still applaud, however). Plus, Brigindo said I'm funny which is about as a good a reward as you can give me (baked goods, obviously, give this a run for the money).
As with all things rewards, there are obligations (though these are fairly pleasant, as you'll see shortly). In this case, I've been asked to do the following:
- Please put the logo of the award (above) on your blog if you can make it work with your format.
- Link to the person from whom you received the award.
- Nominate 7 or more blogs.
- Put the links of those blogs on your blog.
- Leave a message on their blogs to tell them.
But remember the pleasant obligations I mentioned? It's nominating seven blogs. One of the things that I've been thinking about were the blogs that I've been missing. And so some of my recognition will be for blogs that I loved that have since vanished on me. In that category, I'd like to applaud and ask to come back are:
- Kermit over at Kermit's Log: Kermit's blog was eclectic and fun. I always had a sense of music there, even when it wasn't the topic.
- Feminist Ph.D.: Okay, I'm still in touch here, and that's great. But I loved the semi-daily doses, and your new blog home doesn't see enough of you.
- Maggie at Professional Confessions: Seriously, I go home; I deal with a racist uncle. I come back and try to catch up on blog reading, and Maggie's gone. I can only assume this has something to do with her new job (and if so, this is one more thing I will hold against administrators).
- Girl Writes Words: Okay, the posts were infrequent, but they mixed humor, smarts, and bitterness in a cocktail that I imagine would be what coffee tastes like if coffee actually tasted good to me.
- Vienna of Narratives: Vienna's posts were a bit like when you'd hang out in your best friend's room some late night in high school.
That said, onto the still around category, there are a few folks I'd like to give some props to
- Lumpenprofessoriat: Humor and critical thoughts. Marxism. Music. I love it.
- Professor Zero: Always thoughtful and poetic. I love travelogues and tales of people on the road. That's what this blog is, but the trip is an intellectual and cultural one.
- Scattered and Random: Belle's blog reminds of a lot of friends from grad school. If you've been reading awhile, you know what a compliment this is.
- The Bitter and the Sweet: I've already given some props here for the Brave Year Meme, and I think that moment really suggests the spirit and the tone of the blog.
I'll be updating the side list of blogs shortly; there are some that I've been reading that aren't there. If I've got your address wrong, please let me know.
The Rules of Academic Engagement
You know, sometimes I wish blogs could have subtitles. Or that when academic bloggers wrote, they gave their posts titles the way they title their papers. And in the interest of humor and familiarity, I decided to take up the challenge myself and make try a post that draws on the conventions of one form of academic communication to talk about another form.
[Addendum: Be warned, this isn't a blog post. It's a commitment. And as you may have learned, that means once you start reading it, you cannot stop. ]
That said, if this post was a journal article, it would be titled thusly:
Part of why I invoke Kissinger's quote - though I think he's wrong about the stakes - is that what you've just seen is the academic equivalent of guerrilla warfare. And while Kissinger didn't exactly know how to get us out of those situations, he did ultimately learn that the danger of guerrilla warfare was that the rules which were evident weren't the rules that should best be followed.
So, knowing the rules, you can begin to develop strategies to circumvent them. I'll be using the Happy Gumdrop Dustup as a means of both explaining the seeming rules of conflict management within academic society and strategies which may be of use by would-be gumdrops and gumdrop collaborators in helping circumvent these problems. For a concise history of the dustup, here is a useful reference.
If you look at the discourse so far, you'll see a few rules very clearly in evidence. Sadly, I'd like to say that these things just happen here, but having sat through faculty meetings at three different institutions (as Gumdrops go, I'm getting stale), served on a variety of committees at two, worked on organizational boards, and played at faculty poker nights, I can say that this isn't the only time I've seen this1
It must be stressed that while this behavior is more common than we might like, it is far from the norm. What triggers the behavior is up for debate, and its worth noting that a close reading shows some interesting metaphorical trends and is grounds for further inquiry.2
Rule 1: Give No Quarter
Kissinger says academic fights are vicious because the stakes are small. I say they're vicious because they are our equivalent of bare-knuckle boxing. Proving we're right is sport - and for some, it's a blood sport. And in blood sports, you must ALWAYS fight to win, not to compromise. 3
Strategy and Analysis:
This rule, in fact, suggests, the first and most important strategy to dealing with this sort of situation. Unlike the metaphorical cage match we are comparing this to, no one in fact is locking the metaphorical cage. You are free to step out at anytime, whether this be the debate or some larger situation, such as a job.
Along similar lines, you must be careful not to mistake the proposed solutions - which are often either/or solutions - with the full range of possible solutions. Most of your colleagues, when not in the heat of the battle themselves will recognize this (and the good ones will do this even if in the midst).
It's worth noting in the Gumdrop brouhaha that the arguing got loudest when people asserted these rights - whether in the right to leave a job or the right to leave (or to be asked to leave) a conversation. Arguments always require participants, and those who love to argue know very well how to try and gain them.
Rule 2: Choose Your Weapons But Don't Show It
In the academic dust-up, the chief weapons are definitions. This is a rule you should have learned in graduate school, where we've learned to cite our sources and clearly explain not just our definitions but why we've chosen them.
The academic dust-up, however, takes this rule and inverts it. In combat, after all, showing your strength is to expose your weakness. Offering up a definition is to allow the opposition to disarm you. So you must do your best to use your definitions stealthily, only revealing them as the briefest slashes of logic - enough to draw blood but untouchable.
Strategy and Analysis:
In any situation where you're being intentionally left in the dark, your goal becomes to try and gather information yourself. In the heated academic knuckle-duster, this is akin to dancing just out of reach while you study. Ask questions. Ask them different ways. Put the definitions themselves through their paces.
Just as importantly, be clear in yours. One place you can do this is in the academic interview. When I went through my first round of interviews as I was coming out of my program ABD, the fear of not having a job (and hence not having funding which would lead to not being able to finish the dissertation which swallowed the spider to catch the fly...) presented the temptation to try and be whatever a job wanted me to be. Resist this urge. In an interview, in your interactions with colleagues, be yourself. If there is a problem - and sometimes there will be - take it for the sign it is (and only for the sign it is).
The most interesting example of this from the Gumdrop debate was a member of the senior faculty camp who was upset that mentoring and invitations to dinner and invitations to dinner didn't net a junior faculty member's continued presence in the department. As a member of the gumdrop camp, I never would have imagined that a colleague's invitation to dinner(s) would equate to anything but some conversation and collegiality. Honestly, would any of us go to dinner with anyone if we knew it meant the possibility of shackling ourselves to their image of how we should behave for the next year of our lives? Sometimes a steak should just be a steak (or a veggie burger for my West Coast friends). Failing that, at least make sure if your dinner comes with a cost, that you actually put a bill out there. My assumption- and I think a reasonable one - was that the last time I had to put out because you bought me dinner was at the interview.
One of the truly distressing moments in the Gumdrops debate was that there was little attempt to define the problem. Reading between the lines of the debate, there were at least two different things happening. On one side, the junior faculty at the start of the debate didn't actually fit the definition being offered by seniors at the end. None were of the "one and done" variety being decried for taking a job and then leaving. Moreover, many of the faculty lumped into the Gumdrops actually fit a more senior role. Part of the underlying struggle shifted in the midst to trying to clarify what was actually meant by "junior faculty" because there were a substantial number of people in the middle (if only the early stages of it) of their careers.
Rule 3: Control the Terrain
Notice in the discourse of the academic dust-up how often one side or the other assumes that their context is every one's context. One thing Sun-Tzu has taught is that he who controls the battleground controls the battle. This is particularly true in the battle over meaning, where the clearest way to control the battle is to know the terrain better than anyone else. Begin by making them come to you and never, ever concede that there could be another possibility.
For example, while even recent studies show there is marked difference in how academics of different generations view their careers, including what they were and weren't satisfied with, this was largely left out of the debate.
Strategy and Analysis:
Most academic debates become about the context of the people involved. Sadly, as seen in the Gumdrop debate, there is no certain to guarantee that even when you offer a context for yourself that anyone will pay attention to it. But be sure you know yourself well enough to know not only what you want but why you want it.
One of the frustrations expressed by the "senior faculty" was ultimately that they couldn't understand why junior faculty didn't love their department/university/city as much as they did. While this is largely their failure of imagination, there are things you can do to try and prevent this problem in your own relations. First, ask questions about the things that matter to you. Almost invariably with the academic interview, there is not only time set aside for your questions but some time set aside for a tour (this may simply be a lift from the airport). This is your moment to begin to mark out and determine whether this is the place for you or not.
Rule 4: There are Two Kinds of Intelligence - Use Them Both
You know you are intelligent; that's how you got here. Rely on that. But don't be afraid to find intelligence about your opponent and to take advantage. If this means referencing some unfortunate behavior or some unthinking disclosure to gain advantage, you must do it. To some, this would equate to dirty fighting, but in any blood sport, you can't be afraid to press your advantages and take advantage of tactical errors
Strategy and Analysis:
This was one of the most unfortunate moments of the dust-up and probably the most distressing. That members on both sides began to strike out in highly personal ways on the road to trying to make their point. Honestly, it's pretty embarrassing imagining students or colleagues or donors somehow chancing on these moments. And that's the question I've been asking myself today: how would this look to someone not in the midst of it.
I would also imagine, having read some of the more vitriolic moments, that there's a temptation by bloggers involved to stop entirely. Charitably, I'll say that this wasn't an attempt at an actual chilling effect on the parts of the posters who felt the need to resort to attempts at using personal details about members of the blogging community as a means of bolstering their arguments. I'm not personally convinced of that. From the standpoint of those who have benefited from others blogs, I certainly hope this won't be the consequence.
But the bigger point here is that you've got to be prepared to own up to what you say and you've got be prepared that it might be used against you. This sort of thing doesn't happen just in the blogosphere, though it is (in my experience) much more common here. A recent Chronicle column (which I cannot find at the moment) suggested that new faculty should guard their secrets. That's not bad advice, though again, you mustn't be so guarded that you miss connections or somehow misrepresent yourself.
One of the secrets to negotiating any group dynamic - and take this form someone who's survived corporate America and is now navigating the Ivory Tower - is that spending more time listening than speaking will usually tell you all you need to know about your colleagues and your campus. As Gumdrops (or Gumdrops-to-be), spend those first moments of service listening - while we value your input we also understand that it can be overwhelming to be thrown onto the Curriculum Committee or Strategic Planning or whatever - and so we expect you'll be a little quiet. That's your chance to feel out where things stand and whether you've made the right choice or not.
Conclusions
There are a few important conclusions that I think can be made here.
The most important one is that those of us who blog and respond to blogs are only one segment of the faculty you're going to meet. The very fact that we're here and posting suggests something about us and how we deal with problems. We're a vocal minority, and should be interpreted as such. Recognize, too, that we use anonymity in productive and unproductive ways, and that same feature may well have been used against some of us in the community.
Secondly, though, I think you'll see that part of what really underlies the problem here isn't so much a generational thing (though that might be something of an intervening variable) but one of communication itself. By and large, those "senior faculty" who complained were really talking about how they felt deceived and used, a set of feelings the Gumdrops also feel but for very different reasons. My generalization of it is that for "senior faculty," it's about trying to foster relationships that fail, and for "junior faculty" it's about how relationships are set up to fail in the current structure. Those questions aren't going away anytime soon.
Third, I hope it's recognized that most (if not all - I couldn't say for sure) the "junior faculty" all did more than a little to give their jobs a chance. Taking that time to get to know the place and the people is certainly worthwhile, but that doesn't mean you have to stay. I've been advised by more than a few senior faculty (I know them and their credentials, so no quotes for them) who've advised me that even in the second year it's acceptable, but the third year may be seen as more preferable.
Finally, I hope that while the waters here seem treacherous and uncharted, that it's realized that most people really do want to work with you and see you advance in your career in a way that works for you, not just for them.
[Addendum: What? You're still here? Well, alright, have some footnotes then.]
1: Please note, however, while this implies that such academic guerrilla warfare is more common than just this thread, it does not imply that it is ubiquitous.
2: There are a few interesting patterns here. The question of academic vocation is often tied to a series of very particular metaphors. The first is of academia as a calling. Outside of academia, this use of languages often carries with it a particular religious connotation. The extreme version of this, in both academia and religious callings, becomes a form of zealotry or fanaticism. The second metaphor has attempts to speak of the academic career in relationship (typically marriage) terms. In this formation, questions of abandonment, and infidelity become metaphors for behaviors by faculty in relation to each other, to structural agents, and to institutions. Both often carry with them implicit power dynamics that suggest peculiar (and often disturbing) implications.
3: This rule suggests certain corollaries:
[Addendum: Be warned, this isn't a blog post. It's a commitment. And as you may have learned, that means once you start reading it, you cannot stop. ]
That said, if this post was a journal article, it would be titled thusly:
Advice for Soon-to-be-Gumdrops Who've Been Following The Happy Gumdrop Dustup and Who Haven't Yet Killed Themselves/Their Senior Advisers or Completely Abandoned This Career Path: A Meta-AnalysisIt's a long standing truism of academia (typically attributed to Kissinger) that the reason academic politics are so vicious is because the stakes are so small. Certainly we've seen some evidence of just how vicious they can be recently. Among the posts of lurkers in various places, of soon-to-be Gumdrops, and amongst those of us already in this particular set of trenches, the whole episode has raised serious doubts. But even so, there are some lessons to be taken from this whole hullabaloo. If nothing else, realize that the academic community, just like your family, is, shall we say, quirky at least.
Part of why I invoke Kissinger's quote - though I think he's wrong about the stakes - is that what you've just seen is the academic equivalent of guerrilla warfare. And while Kissinger didn't exactly know how to get us out of those situations, he did ultimately learn that the danger of guerrilla warfare was that the rules which were evident weren't the rules that should best be followed.
So, knowing the rules, you can begin to develop strategies to circumvent them. I'll be using the Happy Gumdrop Dustup as a means of both explaining the seeming rules of conflict management within academic society and strategies which may be of use by would-be gumdrops and gumdrop collaborators in helping circumvent these problems. For a concise history of the dustup, here is a useful reference.
If you look at the discourse so far, you'll see a few rules very clearly in evidence. Sadly, I'd like to say that these things just happen here, but having sat through faculty meetings at three different institutions (as Gumdrops go, I'm getting stale), served on a variety of committees at two, worked on organizational boards, and played at faculty poker nights, I can say that this isn't the only time I've seen this1
It must be stressed that while this behavior is more common than we might like, it is far from the norm. What triggers the behavior is up for debate, and its worth noting that a close reading shows some interesting metaphorical trends and is grounds for further inquiry.2
Rule 1: Give No Quarter
Kissinger says academic fights are vicious because the stakes are small. I say they're vicious because they are our equivalent of bare-knuckle boxing. Proving we're right is sport - and for some, it's a blood sport. And in blood sports, you must ALWAYS fight to win, not to compromise. 3
Strategy and Analysis:
This rule, in fact, suggests, the first and most important strategy to dealing with this sort of situation. Unlike the metaphorical cage match we are comparing this to, no one in fact is locking the metaphorical cage. You are free to step out at anytime, whether this be the debate or some larger situation, such as a job.
Along similar lines, you must be careful not to mistake the proposed solutions - which are often either/or solutions - with the full range of possible solutions. Most of your colleagues, when not in the heat of the battle themselves will recognize this (and the good ones will do this even if in the midst).
It's worth noting in the Gumdrop brouhaha that the arguing got loudest when people asserted these rights - whether in the right to leave a job or the right to leave (or to be asked to leave) a conversation. Arguments always require participants, and those who love to argue know very well how to try and gain them.
Rule 2: Choose Your Weapons But Don't Show It
In the academic dust-up, the chief weapons are definitions. This is a rule you should have learned in graduate school, where we've learned to cite our sources and clearly explain not just our definitions but why we've chosen them.
The academic dust-up, however, takes this rule and inverts it. In combat, after all, showing your strength is to expose your weakness. Offering up a definition is to allow the opposition to disarm you. So you must do your best to use your definitions stealthily, only revealing them as the briefest slashes of logic - enough to draw blood but untouchable.
Strategy and Analysis:
In any situation where you're being intentionally left in the dark, your goal becomes to try and gather information yourself. In the heated academic knuckle-duster, this is akin to dancing just out of reach while you study. Ask questions. Ask them different ways. Put the definitions themselves through their paces.
Just as importantly, be clear in yours. One place you can do this is in the academic interview. When I went through my first round of interviews as I was coming out of my program ABD, the fear of not having a job (and hence not having funding which would lead to not being able to finish the dissertation which swallowed the spider to catch the fly...) presented the temptation to try and be whatever a job wanted me to be. Resist this urge. In an interview, in your interactions with colleagues, be yourself. If there is a problem - and sometimes there will be - take it for the sign it is (and only for the sign it is).
The most interesting example of this from the Gumdrop debate was a member of the senior faculty camp who was upset that mentoring and invitations to dinner and invitations to dinner didn't net a junior faculty member's continued presence in the department. As a member of the gumdrop camp, I never would have imagined that a colleague's invitation to dinner(s) would equate to anything but some conversation and collegiality. Honestly, would any of us go to dinner with anyone if we knew it meant the possibility of shackling ourselves to their image of how we should behave for the next year of our lives? Sometimes a steak should just be a steak (or a veggie burger for my West Coast friends). Failing that, at least make sure if your dinner comes with a cost, that you actually put a bill out there. My assumption- and I think a reasonable one - was that the last time I had to put out because you bought me dinner was at the interview.
One of the truly distressing moments in the Gumdrops debate was that there was little attempt to define the problem. Reading between the lines of the debate, there were at least two different things happening. On one side, the junior faculty at the start of the debate didn't actually fit the definition being offered by seniors at the end. None were of the "one and done" variety being decried for taking a job and then leaving. Moreover, many of the faculty lumped into the Gumdrops actually fit a more senior role. Part of the underlying struggle shifted in the midst to trying to clarify what was actually meant by "junior faculty" because there were a substantial number of people in the middle (if only the early stages of it) of their careers.
Rule 3: Control the Terrain
Notice in the discourse of the academic dust-up how often one side or the other assumes that their context is every one's context. One thing Sun-Tzu has taught is that he who controls the battleground controls the battle. This is particularly true in the battle over meaning, where the clearest way to control the battle is to know the terrain better than anyone else. Begin by making them come to you and never, ever concede that there could be another possibility.
For example, while even recent studies show there is marked difference in how academics of different generations view their careers, including what they were and weren't satisfied with, this was largely left out of the debate.
Strategy and Analysis:
Most academic debates become about the context of the people involved. Sadly, as seen in the Gumdrop debate, there is no certain to guarantee that even when you offer a context for yourself that anyone will pay attention to it. But be sure you know yourself well enough to know not only what you want but why you want it.
One of the frustrations expressed by the "senior faculty" was ultimately that they couldn't understand why junior faculty didn't love their department/university/city as much as they did. While this is largely their failure of imagination, there are things you can do to try and prevent this problem in your own relations. First, ask questions about the things that matter to you. Almost invariably with the academic interview, there is not only time set aside for your questions but some time set aside for a tour (this may simply be a lift from the airport). This is your moment to begin to mark out and determine whether this is the place for you or not.
Rule 4: There are Two Kinds of Intelligence - Use Them Both
You know you are intelligent; that's how you got here. Rely on that. But don't be afraid to find intelligence about your opponent and to take advantage. If this means referencing some unfortunate behavior or some unthinking disclosure to gain advantage, you must do it. To some, this would equate to dirty fighting, but in any blood sport, you can't be afraid to press your advantages and take advantage of tactical errors
Strategy and Analysis:
This was one of the most unfortunate moments of the dust-up and probably the most distressing. That members on both sides began to strike out in highly personal ways on the road to trying to make their point. Honestly, it's pretty embarrassing imagining students or colleagues or donors somehow chancing on these moments. And that's the question I've been asking myself today: how would this look to someone not in the midst of it.
I would also imagine, having read some of the more vitriolic moments, that there's a temptation by bloggers involved to stop entirely. Charitably, I'll say that this wasn't an attempt at an actual chilling effect on the parts of the posters who felt the need to resort to attempts at using personal details about members of the blogging community as a means of bolstering their arguments. I'm not personally convinced of that. From the standpoint of those who have benefited from others blogs, I certainly hope this won't be the consequence.
But the bigger point here is that you've got to be prepared to own up to what you say and you've got be prepared that it might be used against you. This sort of thing doesn't happen just in the blogosphere, though it is (in my experience) much more common here. A recent Chronicle column (which I cannot find at the moment) suggested that new faculty should guard their secrets. That's not bad advice, though again, you mustn't be so guarded that you miss connections or somehow misrepresent yourself.
One of the secrets to negotiating any group dynamic - and take this form someone who's survived corporate America and is now navigating the Ivory Tower - is that spending more time listening than speaking will usually tell you all you need to know about your colleagues and your campus. As Gumdrops (or Gumdrops-to-be), spend those first moments of service listening - while we value your input we also understand that it can be overwhelming to be thrown onto the Curriculum Committee or Strategic Planning or whatever - and so we expect you'll be a little quiet. That's your chance to feel out where things stand and whether you've made the right choice or not.
Conclusions
There are a few important conclusions that I think can be made here.
The most important one is that those of us who blog and respond to blogs are only one segment of the faculty you're going to meet. The very fact that we're here and posting suggests something about us and how we deal with problems. We're a vocal minority, and should be interpreted as such. Recognize, too, that we use anonymity in productive and unproductive ways, and that same feature may well have been used against some of us in the community.
Secondly, though, I think you'll see that part of what really underlies the problem here isn't so much a generational thing (though that might be something of an intervening variable) but one of communication itself. By and large, those "senior faculty" who complained were really talking about how they felt deceived and used, a set of feelings the Gumdrops also feel but for very different reasons. My generalization of it is that for "senior faculty," it's about trying to foster relationships that fail, and for "junior faculty" it's about how relationships are set up to fail in the current structure. Those questions aren't going away anytime soon.
Third, I hope it's recognized that most (if not all - I couldn't say for sure) the "junior faculty" all did more than a little to give their jobs a chance. Taking that time to get to know the place and the people is certainly worthwhile, but that doesn't mean you have to stay. I've been advised by more than a few senior faculty (I know them and their credentials, so no quotes for them) who've advised me that even in the second year it's acceptable, but the third year may be seen as more preferable.
Finally, I hope that while the waters here seem treacherous and uncharted, that it's realized that most people really do want to work with you and see you advance in your career in a way that works for you, not just for them.
[Addendum: What? You're still here? Well, alright, have some footnotes then.]
1: Please note, however, while this implies that such academic guerrilla warfare is more common than just this thread, it does not imply that it is ubiquitous.
2: There are a few interesting patterns here. The question of academic vocation is often tied to a series of very particular metaphors. The first is of academia as a calling. Outside of academia, this use of languages often carries with it a particular religious connotation. The extreme version of this, in both academia and religious callings, becomes a form of zealotry or fanaticism. The second metaphor has attempts to speak of the academic career in relationship (typically marriage) terms. In this formation, questions of abandonment, and infidelity become metaphors for behaviors by faculty in relation to each other, to structural agents, and to institutions. Both often carry with them implicit power dynamics that suggest peculiar (and often disturbing) implications.
3: This rule suggests certain corollaries:
C1) First, the more marginal you feel your research/teaching is in relation to another variable (your colleague's research, the university's goals, the funding you receive, etc), the more likely to view to go the bloodsport route.
C2) The more marginal you feel someone else's research/teaching is in relation to another variable, the more likely to go the bloodsport route.
C3) The longer the pre-fight, the bloodier the match.
Why "Curmudgeon," Curmudgeon?
Tonight seems like a good time for a little explanation.
Having spent a little more time splashing about the blog-o-sphere (doesn't that spelling just beg for someone saying it like Mr. Burns?), one of the things I've appreciated elsewhere has been some note of introspection from the people whose stuff I'm reading (Dr. Crazy gives a good explanation about what her blog should do by explaining the transition from one blog to another as does Tenured Radical in her "About Me" page). And once, I promised to explain a little bit about what my greatest gripe about teaching is (this post won't exactly answer that, I don't think, but it might be as close as I get).
So here's what I'm shooting for with the post:
First, the name. After having read a post about the literary canon and the subsequent comments and categorizations of academics in that discipline, I find myself a little nervous over the use of the name Dr. Curmudgeon. I was shooting for fun and a bit of irony. I considered Dr. Cranky - it is probably taken but it also sounded a bit petulant (not that I'm not, but...). What I wanted was something that gave me a notion of being both disgruntled while hopefully being amusing and lovable. What I wanted was a sort of academic version of Statler and Waldorf from the Muppet Show. I'm hoping it doesn't imply - as the word curmudgeon seems to in that thread - that I'm insular or afraid to roll with the punches or the times.
And I wanted to be anonymous. I cannot stress this enough, though Dr. Crazy's thoughts that led to her move to Reassigned Time have me thinking.
For me, this blog is intended to be cathartic more than anything. You'll see the impact of that in a few ways. I don't edit so much here. There are posts with grammatical errors and leaps of logic that make my head and heart cringe. The posts are, in some ways, a form of intellectual shorthand. At other times, the blog is my virtual bobo doll experiment (I hope it is more Bandura than B.F. Skinner anyway). That it has - or might - draw an audience is both a thrill and a fear.
Here's the thing: I like where I am.
Sort of.
My department is great if sometimes dysfunctional, disorganized, and set in its ways. My Dean generally looks out for me and has the same priorities I do. After that, things get hazy. And if you go up a level, beyond the university, things get downright ugly. I like where I am. I just don't like where "where I am" is.
So the anonymity isn't just about protecting me - though let's be honest, that's the biggest part of it - it is also about making sure that I give a fair shake to those around. One thing that I've noticed so far is that by adopting the anonymous pose, I have to spend some rhetorical and cognitive effort to write what I do. Sometimes that has resulted in my finding a more equitable but less obvious spot to pin my gripes to. With that in mind, not every event I tell you here is the capital-t truth. I'll change a name or hide an event where I can when I think I need to to help keep me anonymous. And I'll do it to help make sure that someone who isn't a part of this forum gets as close to a fair shake as they're going to. That also means as people comment, I'm moderating them with the thickest red Sharpie this site allows. Having readers - and reading other people who are talking about the same things - has helped. And like I said, that's the biggest goal of the thing: to organize my thoughts and to keep me grounded.
As for me, I'm the first kid in the family to have made it through college. I'm the only one to have gone to grad school. I did it all on student loans because it was the only way to do it. I did it because this was the Olympics I could qualify for, the thing I had enough chops to have a shot at completing that would require me to push myself. I believe in education the way some people believe in Religion. It has sent me places I never thought I'd go. I've met people amazing people, and I've discovered just how often I'm only the smartest aleck in the room but not the smartest. It has come with a price - I can give you a figure and I can tell you the other parts - and most days it has been absolutely worth it. I've found a career that I like, even if it doesn't pay the tolls it took to get here.
There are some things I should apologize for - or at least note - in advance. I'm bad with names. My mouth - and my keyboard - often works faster than the rest of me. I decided when I was very young that if I couldn't laugh at it, I was afraid of it, and sometimes I take that too literally. I'm private to a degree that makes the notion of a public journal absolutely laughable (I'm serious: many of my best friends do not know my birthdate, when I'm dating, or who I'm likely to date). I can be too literal at the wrong moments. My Meyers-Briggs switches (usually, I'm ENTP or INTP or ENTJ or INTJ). I'm not above selling out exes, friends or family for the sake of a story. While I recognize that my taste in books is idiosyncratic, I'm convinced my taste in music is superior to everyone else's. If you recommend something to me too much, too often, or too strongly, I might ignore you just for spite. I like food baseball metaphors and movies but not the actual game. I love food that makes me cry. I may be a little too thrill seeking for my own good.
So that, my ducks, is a sort of introduction. Hope it fills in a gap or two without scaring anyone off.
Having spent a little more time splashing about the blog-o-sphere (doesn't that spelling just beg for someone saying it like Mr. Burns?), one of the things I've appreciated elsewhere has been some note of introspection from the people whose stuff I'm reading (Dr. Crazy gives a good explanation about what her blog should do by explaining the transition from one blog to another as does Tenured Radical in her "About Me" page). And once, I promised to explain a little bit about what my greatest gripe about teaching is (this post won't exactly answer that, I don't think, but it might be as close as I get).
So here's what I'm shooting for with the post:
- a brief bit of explanation of who I am which won't actually reveal who I am
- an explanation of the ethic of the blog
- some sort of amusing moment that might also be an epiphany
First, the name. After having read a post about the literary canon and the subsequent comments and categorizations of academics in that discipline, I find myself a little nervous over the use of the name Dr. Curmudgeon. I was shooting for fun and a bit of irony. I considered Dr. Cranky - it is probably taken but it also sounded a bit petulant (not that I'm not, but...). What I wanted was something that gave me a notion of being both disgruntled while hopefully being amusing and lovable. What I wanted was a sort of academic version of Statler and Waldorf from the Muppet Show. I'm hoping it doesn't imply - as the word curmudgeon seems to in that thread - that I'm insular or afraid to roll with the punches or the times.
And I wanted to be anonymous. I cannot stress this enough, though Dr. Crazy's thoughts that led to her move to Reassigned Time have me thinking.
For me, this blog is intended to be cathartic more than anything. You'll see the impact of that in a few ways. I don't edit so much here. There are posts with grammatical errors and leaps of logic that make my head and heart cringe. The posts are, in some ways, a form of intellectual shorthand. At other times, the blog is my virtual bobo doll experiment (I hope it is more Bandura than B.F. Skinner anyway). That it has - or might - draw an audience is both a thrill and a fear.
Here's the thing: I like where I am.
Sort of.
My department is great if sometimes dysfunctional, disorganized, and set in its ways. My Dean generally looks out for me and has the same priorities I do. After that, things get hazy. And if you go up a level, beyond the university, things get downright ugly. I like where I am. I just don't like where "where I am" is.
So the anonymity isn't just about protecting me - though let's be honest, that's the biggest part of it - it is also about making sure that I give a fair shake to those around. One thing that I've noticed so far is that by adopting the anonymous pose, I have to spend some rhetorical and cognitive effort to write what I do. Sometimes that has resulted in my finding a more equitable but less obvious spot to pin my gripes to. With that in mind, not every event I tell you here is the capital-t truth. I'll change a name or hide an event where I can when I think I need to to help keep me anonymous. And I'll do it to help make sure that someone who isn't a part of this forum gets as close to a fair shake as they're going to. That also means as people comment, I'm moderating them with the thickest red Sharpie this site allows. Having readers - and reading other people who are talking about the same things - has helped. And like I said, that's the biggest goal of the thing: to organize my thoughts and to keep me grounded.
As for me, I'm the first kid in the family to have made it through college. I'm the only one to have gone to grad school. I did it all on student loans because it was the only way to do it. I did it because this was the Olympics I could qualify for, the thing I had enough chops to have a shot at completing that would require me to push myself. I believe in education the way some people believe in Religion. It has sent me places I never thought I'd go. I've met people amazing people, and I've discovered just how often I'm only the smartest aleck in the room but not the smartest. It has come with a price - I can give you a figure and I can tell you the other parts - and most days it has been absolutely worth it. I've found a career that I like, even if it doesn't pay the tolls it took to get here.
There are some things I should apologize for - or at least note - in advance. I'm bad with names. My mouth - and my keyboard - often works faster than the rest of me. I decided when I was very young that if I couldn't laugh at it, I was afraid of it, and sometimes I take that too literally. I'm private to a degree that makes the notion of a public journal absolutely laughable (I'm serious: many of my best friends do not know my birthdate, when I'm dating, or who I'm likely to date). I can be too literal at the wrong moments. My Meyers-Briggs switches (usually, I'm ENTP or INTP or ENTJ or INTJ). I'm not above selling out exes, friends or family for the sake of a story. While I recognize that my taste in books is idiosyncratic, I'm convinced my taste in music is superior to everyone else's. If you recommend something to me too much, too often, or too strongly, I might ignore you just for spite. I like food baseball metaphors and movies but not the actual game. I love food that makes me cry. I may be a little too thrill seeking for my own good.
So that, my ducks, is a sort of introduction. Hope it fills in a gap or two without scaring anyone off.
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