I spent the day in the car, driving through the desert and around town. Music on the stereo (the Black Angels "Passover," if you're interested, who probably sound a little like the Doors except the Doors leave me cold and the Black Angels don't), and the windows down.
In the near distance, a mountain beckoned. The sun felt heavenly, and just being able to roll through town reading street names that sounded like they'd been named not just for saints but for lost lovers was more relaxing than I can tell. One thing I think the Southwest has over the rest of the country is the names of places: San Mateo, Esperanza, Villa Maria, Soledad....I could go on.
Lunch was at a little dive: a combination Mexican plate that was to die for. It's nice to see the old travel rules still work: the best places to eat always have the most police cars out front of them at lunch time.
The trip was good; there were a lot of questions after about the presentation, and I got a chance to reconnect with some old colleagues. And, with the exception of whatever edits come on the book, this more or less ends the research related part of my school year though now I've got a paper I can try to work up to something for the start of next year and the new job, plus two presentations in the pipeline. I like having a day after the conference hoopla to enjoy the place I'm visiting, though it happened by accident this time.
Life is, I think, moving along nicely.
Like a Classroom with Wings
On one of the legs of my flight out here, a flight attendant laid down a spontaneous quiz on the passengers and then gave them a lecture because no one paid attention during the pre-flight safety features briefing.
"How many exits does this plane have?" he asked.
Silence.
"You know, this could save your lives, right?" he said.
Silence.
"How many exits?" he demanded.
And eventually there were a few sputters, including my own (there were four exits, by the way - two at the front, two over the wings, not counting the escape hatch at the top of the cockpit). I had to admire his determination, particularly as it required him to walk a tougher line than I would want to: I mean, do you really want to suggest to people on a plane just how dangerous things can get? I could see he was struggling to say something like "You know, there have been two big plane crashes in recent weeks." or "We're going to fly over water."
I, of course, have a love/hate thing with authority. I like it when I have it; I rebel when anyone else does. So I appreciated the attempt, because I think airports are one of the places you can see just how far from rational, organized, capable of following simple instructions our society has gone. I listened, for example, to someone attempt to enforce order in the boarding process. And really, the boarding process is a great study in our obsession with the idea of "first" even if there is no real benefit.
Think about it. Being first on the plane just means you have to move constantly to let people into your aisle. It means you spend awhile longer sitting in an uncomfortable seat. It doesn't get you better seating. It doesn't get you a free drink/pillow/whatever the airline is charging for these days. But we all feel the need to cram in.
Having traveled a very little bit in other countries, my desire for order and rules is sometimes rewarded. Boarding a plane in Munich, I watched a tall, blond German flight attendant scold an over-eager passenger to the back of the boarding line after their failure to obey instructions about boarding. I don't think I"m overstating when I tell you that moment and the look on the scolded passengers face made me feel positively post-coital. Air travel rarely offers anything close to that. At least for me.
So I felt for that attendant on my flight out. It was a bit like my classes this term, where students are lost to all manner of things. I'm considering putting a restriction on all technology that comes after pen and paper because of just how bad it's gotten. And my classes can't possibly be the worst, since I've already got a fairly rigorous set of policies in my syllabi.
Of course, I bet it would work better if I could share that sense of falling from the sky that a lecture gone bad sometimes gives with my students.
"How many exits does this plane have?" he asked.
Silence.
"You know, this could save your lives, right?" he said.
Silence.
"How many exits?" he demanded.
And eventually there were a few sputters, including my own (there were four exits, by the way - two at the front, two over the wings, not counting the escape hatch at the top of the cockpit). I had to admire his determination, particularly as it required him to walk a tougher line than I would want to: I mean, do you really want to suggest to people on a plane just how dangerous things can get? I could see he was struggling to say something like "You know, there have been two big plane crashes in recent weeks." or "We're going to fly over water."
I, of course, have a love/hate thing with authority. I like it when I have it; I rebel when anyone else does. So I appreciated the attempt, because I think airports are one of the places you can see just how far from rational, organized, capable of following simple instructions our society has gone. I listened, for example, to someone attempt to enforce order in the boarding process. And really, the boarding process is a great study in our obsession with the idea of "first" even if there is no real benefit.
Think about it. Being first on the plane just means you have to move constantly to let people into your aisle. It means you spend awhile longer sitting in an uncomfortable seat. It doesn't get you better seating. It doesn't get you a free drink/pillow/whatever the airline is charging for these days. But we all feel the need to cram in.
Having traveled a very little bit in other countries, my desire for order and rules is sometimes rewarded. Boarding a plane in Munich, I watched a tall, blond German flight attendant scold an over-eager passenger to the back of the boarding line after their failure to obey instructions about boarding. I don't think I"m overstating when I tell you that moment and the look on the scolded passengers face made me feel positively post-coital. Air travel rarely offers anything close to that. At least for me.
So I felt for that attendant on my flight out. It was a bit like my classes this term, where students are lost to all manner of things. I'm considering putting a restriction on all technology that comes after pen and paper because of just how bad it's gotten. And my classes can't possibly be the worst, since I've already got a fairly rigorous set of policies in my syllabi.
Of course, I bet it would work better if I could share that sense of falling from the sky that a lecture gone bad sometimes gives with my students.
Where I Went Wrong, Where I Went Right
I'm in a hotel room, hours after my presentation. Tom Selleck is "The Daily Show" talking about his brain damaged sheep and how ugly cows are. I'm certain this somehow reflects badly, because I'm too tired to turn off the t.v., let alone to try and make sense of what he's on about.
The day's been good. You know a day that starts with huevos rancheros is off to a quality start. This is one thing they're missing where I currently live: good Mexican breakfasts. The day was warm and sunny, and the time difference only screwed up once, though it did so in a profound and humorous way: causing me to panic that I was about miss my presentation because the clock on my computer is set for the back home's time zone. Around the time I was eating my much anticipated barbecue dinner and beer, the time change decided to open up a serious can of whup-ass on me.
I am torn between my 3-year-old-like desire to fight sleep as much as possible, and my slightly more mature college-student-esque desire to justify going to bed as early as possible because life and time zones justifies any bedtime I please.
The presentation wasn't as tight as I would have liked, but it went over pretty well for my first stab at this new project. This conference is particularly good for this presentation because there's a sizable group of folks doing related work from a variety of perspectives. The feedback actually helped justify my dissertation (soon to be a book coming to a book catalog near you). So I'm feeling good.
But tired. And now I"m off to bed, I think.
The day's been good. You know a day that starts with huevos rancheros is off to a quality start. This is one thing they're missing where I currently live: good Mexican breakfasts. The day was warm and sunny, and the time difference only screwed up once, though it did so in a profound and humorous way: causing me to panic that I was about miss my presentation because the clock on my computer is set for the back home's time zone. Around the time I was eating my much anticipated barbecue dinner and beer, the time change decided to open up a serious can of whup-ass on me.
I am torn between my 3-year-old-like desire to fight sleep as much as possible, and my slightly more mature college-student-esque desire to justify going to bed as early as possible because life and time zones justifies any bedtime I please.
The presentation wasn't as tight as I would have liked, but it went over pretty well for my first stab at this new project. This conference is particularly good for this presentation because there's a sizable group of folks doing related work from a variety of perspectives. The feedback actually helped justify my dissertation (soon to be a book coming to a book catalog near you). So I'm feeling good.
But tired. And now I"m off to bed, I think.
Plug and Play
I hate that I've become one of those people who carries a billion different cords with me when I travel. Last night, as I was packing, I found myself gathering the laptop cord, the sync for my iPod, the charger for my digital camera. In the airport today, I found myself staring daggers at the people who found working outlets. And if they took up more than one of them, I tried exploding them with the power of my brain.
It works, seriously. I've just been tired lately. I'm sure some people got nasty headaches, though, such is the power of my mind.
Washington-Dulles is particularly frustrating because they have designated spots to charge your gadgets, but they're only semi-functional, as there's barely any surface area for something to rest on, and typically, there are only two seats nearby. Worse, the cellphone zombies are particularly thick in Dulles, meaning no one is safe to walk because half the population can't be bothered to look where they're going.
Of course, what they're ordering at Wendy's just might be so important someone 3,000 miles away must know right away.
These complaints must, of course, be taken with a grain of salt as I am blogging from my hotel room, after all. Don't explode me please.
It works, seriously. I've just been tired lately. I'm sure some people got nasty headaches, though, such is the power of my mind.
Washington-Dulles is particularly frustrating because they have designated spots to charge your gadgets, but they're only semi-functional, as there's barely any surface area for something to rest on, and typically, there are only two seats nearby. Worse, the cellphone zombies are particularly thick in Dulles, meaning no one is safe to walk because half the population can't be bothered to look where they're going.
Of course, what they're ordering at Wendy's just might be so important someone 3,000 miles away must know right away.
These complaints must, of course, be taken with a grain of salt as I am blogging from my hotel room, after all. Don't explode me please.
Finger-waggers, salt-rubbers, to your marks...
Remember way back when, I mentioned that my assignment load was going to come back and bite me in the ass? Probably a few of you thought, in classic academic Vaudeville fashion, "then don't set up assignments like that."
That's right. I'm in grading hell, trying to get set for a conference and make it so that midterms has something truly fair to report. And so, now is your chance, my darlings. It worked for Groucho, and it'll work for you. So:
That's right. I'm in grading hell, trying to get set for a conference and make it so that midterms has something truly fair to report. And so, now is your chance, my darlings. It worked for Groucho, and it'll work for you. So:Doctors, it hurts when I have to grade all this.And you say...
Ooh, I Bet You Wonder How I Knew
Apologies to Marvin Gaye, but "I Heard It Through the Grapevine" seemed true for the topic of leaving an academic job on so many levels. The question I've been meaning to get to about the job search has been the question of how it impacted things here, at the school I'm soon to depart.
Ash asked some tough questions in her comments on the previous job tracking post:
The short answer to those questions is: you can't stop the grapevine, but you can contain it now and then.
Keeping a lid on things was tough. My roommate teaches at the same university, for starters, and most of my friends in the area do as well. And it's impossible to keep them out of the loop. Compound that with the fact that at least one person in your department is likely to serve as a reference for you if you're at the point I'm at - untenured and trying to leap from my first tenure-track job to another. And if they're halfway observant, the people you work with know the signs anyway: short, unexplained trips are a pretty big tip-off, for example, particularly if they aren't happening at conference season for your discipline.
I actually think, to what extend you're able, it's better not to try and be secretive about the process, though there are certainly times it is better to. I let the senior faculty know awhile back that I was looking for a job, in part because I needed letters but also because I like this department and my hope is that I leave in as good a shape or better than I found it, and one thing that means is that they've got to have time to prepare for my absence. I also tried to let them know why I was looking to leave: that the salary here wasn't enough, that being here made it harder to deal with aging parents, and that the resources I need aren't here.
Of course, that doesn't mean you volunteer everything either. For example, I didn't tell anyone about my interviews, but I would have had they asked. I'm sure they knew that I was going - in fact, at least one colleague told me after the fact.
Where I did intentionally keep quiet about things was once I had an offer, because that was stressful enough without having to answer questions at my door. And it kept me from having to think about a counter-offer from my current school. Probably I should have been glad to have gotten an offer, as it would have helped me negotiate a better position, but again, knowing I want to leave made it seem unfair to people and a program that's been very good to me. In any case, I've been direct in asking the folks who know not to say anything - and if there were particular people I didn't want to know, then I said so directly. Here, and probably everywhere, there are a few key folks who can't keep a secret to themselves, so you've got to prepare for that. But I think you have to assume that sooner than you probably want, word is going to get out.
Even now, with word well out and about, I find talking about taking a new job awkward. There are a lot of Institutional Believers here, who can't imagine why anyone would ever leave this place, and they seem to take these things very hard. I have a colleague whose back visibly stiffens every time word of my departure is heard. The day the story broke, that same colleague seemed unable to look at me or speak to me until I broached the subject directly. I worry that others are going to take this personally as well, though so far everyone - even the rigid backed academic I just spoke of - indicate that they understand. The topic came up at a gathering a few nights ago, and it was the most awkward I'd felt in years.
And, of course, I haven't figure out how and when to tell students. It's an interesting moment, having seen colleagues leave before, that gives insight into how students see faculty. Really, in their minds, some faculty become fixtures - less a part of the scenery in their college dramas than a really important prop.
Okay, maybe that metaphor doesn't work.
In any case, they like their worlds well-defined (as we all do, really), and most of them (in my experience, at least) don't understand how academia works in anything but the most rudimentary fashion so it isn't surprising that for some students the sudden departure feels particularly distressing. And with some of them, I do feel like I'm abandoning them. I've found myself composing a sort of last will and testament to the department, a list of little things to do and watch out for once I'm gone with particular students. I think, really, I'm probably only a couple of weeks away from meaningful hand grasping and hushed words of wisdom, like some dying octogenarian in a made-for-tv movie.
Of course, they aren't tied into the same grapevine, so it's entirely possible that a lot of them wouldn't know if I don't tell them until they turned up at the start of next term to see I'd been replaced by that lovable pinch-hitter "Prof. Staff." It would almost be easier if they were privy to faculty/administration gossip, because then I wouldn't have to chose the moment (or none at all).
See, Marvin had it right: there's heartbreak attached to this, even when the decision was an easy one.
Ash asked some tough questions in her comments on the previous job tracking post:
...what kinds of reactions you're getting from colleagues, students, family etc.Dealing with life after the job offer has been one of the most confusing and difficult parts of the process for me. As I've said before, I love my department, so there's a sizable risk in leaving that the place I land won't be the community I have here. I'm rolling the dice in that regard, though the hope is that more resources, better pay, and an environment I think I'll enjoy more will make up for any problems.
Is it even possible to control the spread of information at a SLAC, where everyone seems to know everyone else's business? If nothing else, how do you keep friends/well-wishers/whoever from spilling the news on Facebook before you're ready to tell the world at large?
The short answer to those questions is: you can't stop the grapevine, but you can contain it now and then.
Keeping a lid on things was tough. My roommate teaches at the same university, for starters, and most of my friends in the area do as well. And it's impossible to keep them out of the loop. Compound that with the fact that at least one person in your department is likely to serve as a reference for you if you're at the point I'm at - untenured and trying to leap from my first tenure-track job to another. And if they're halfway observant, the people you work with know the signs anyway: short, unexplained trips are a pretty big tip-off, for example, particularly if they aren't happening at conference season for your discipline.
I actually think, to what extend you're able, it's better not to try and be secretive about the process, though there are certainly times it is better to. I let the senior faculty know awhile back that I was looking for a job, in part because I needed letters but also because I like this department and my hope is that I leave in as good a shape or better than I found it, and one thing that means is that they've got to have time to prepare for my absence. I also tried to let them know why I was looking to leave: that the salary here wasn't enough, that being here made it harder to deal with aging parents, and that the resources I need aren't here.
Of course, that doesn't mean you volunteer everything either. For example, I didn't tell anyone about my interviews, but I would have had they asked. I'm sure they knew that I was going - in fact, at least one colleague told me after the fact.
Where I did intentionally keep quiet about things was once I had an offer, because that was stressful enough without having to answer questions at my door. And it kept me from having to think about a counter-offer from my current school. Probably I should have been glad to have gotten an offer, as it would have helped me negotiate a better position, but again, knowing I want to leave made it seem unfair to people and a program that's been very good to me. In any case, I've been direct in asking the folks who know not to say anything - and if there were particular people I didn't want to know, then I said so directly. Here, and probably everywhere, there are a few key folks who can't keep a secret to themselves, so you've got to prepare for that. But I think you have to assume that sooner than you probably want, word is going to get out.
Even now, with word well out and about, I find talking about taking a new job awkward. There are a lot of Institutional Believers here, who can't imagine why anyone would ever leave this place, and they seem to take these things very hard. I have a colleague whose back visibly stiffens every time word of my departure is heard. The day the story broke, that same colleague seemed unable to look at me or speak to me until I broached the subject directly. I worry that others are going to take this personally as well, though so far everyone - even the rigid backed academic I just spoke of - indicate that they understand. The topic came up at a gathering a few nights ago, and it was the most awkward I'd felt in years.
And, of course, I haven't figure out how and when to tell students. It's an interesting moment, having seen colleagues leave before, that gives insight into how students see faculty. Really, in their minds, some faculty become fixtures - less a part of the scenery in their college dramas than a really important prop.
Okay, maybe that metaphor doesn't work.
In any case, they like their worlds well-defined (as we all do, really), and most of them (in my experience, at least) don't understand how academia works in anything but the most rudimentary fashion so it isn't surprising that for some students the sudden departure feels particularly distressing. And with some of them, I do feel like I'm abandoning them. I've found myself composing a sort of last will and testament to the department, a list of little things to do and watch out for once I'm gone with particular students. I think, really, I'm probably only a couple of weeks away from meaningful hand grasping and hushed words of wisdom, like some dying octogenarian in a made-for-tv movie.
Of course, they aren't tied into the same grapevine, so it's entirely possible that a lot of them wouldn't know if I don't tell them until they turned up at the start of next term to see I'd been replaced by that lovable pinch-hitter "Prof. Staff." It would almost be easier if they were privy to faculty/administration gossip, because then I wouldn't have to chose the moment (or none at all).
See, Marvin had it right: there's heartbreak attached to this, even when the decision was an easy one.
Academic Freedom, Workers Rights Tested
Just came across this in a couple of places, and thought I'd share it. It's a petition in support of Dr. Loretta Capeheart, a professor at Northern Illinois University, who has come under fire for her work with worker's rights groups, student protest groups, and for simply speaking out at her university.
Give it a look. I'm trying to find a link to some places that provide a bit more information, and as I come across them, I'll update this post.
Give it a look. I'm trying to find a link to some places that provide a bit more information, and as I come across them, I'll update this post.
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