Leadership

If faculty governance and faculty contribution to a university community is going to work properly, it won't just do so by magic. Because here's the thing: groups of people can only come together to work effectively if they have structure, guidance, and information. There needs to be a person who takes responsibility for creating structure, for guiding decision-making processes, and for disseminating information in a way that is responsible, transparent, and coherent.

In other words, we need administrators. Faculty can't do their jobs unless they have effective administrators to create an environment in which that can happen. Left to their own devices, to piece together information by happenstance and to have discussions and to make decisions without a clear structure, clear goals, and clear guidelines, faculty will most of the time fail. That's right. I said that. Faculty can't just run the university by committee.

Now, faculty members are smart folks. They can do a lot of things well. They can achieve a great deal for a university - above and beyond their individual teaching and research - with strong leadership. With charismatic and strong leadership, they may even be able to achieve this great deal and feel proud of it and like what they're achieving.

But also, faculty members are smart folks. They know when they're being given the run-around. They know when the rhetoric doesn't match the substance. They know when the hundreds of hours they've put into something to make it great have meant nothing, and when that something is being gutted. And once they know these things, they are going to stop being so interested in cheer-leading, in taking one for the team, in doing their jobs well. This is not because faculty members are selfish or scattered or lacking in commitment. It's because they are smart folks, and they know that to be smart means not investing one's time in something that has clearly become totally fucked. They know that being smart means not letting themselves get fucked.

Strong leadership means:

• Knowing how to run a meeting. If you're sitting at the head of a table, and if you're putting yourself in a position of authority over a group, you also hold responsibility for keeping the group on track. You hold responsibility for focusing the discussion, and for explaining why the discussion is being focused in the way that you choose. You hold responsibility for stopping people from talking over one another, and you hold responsibility for managing the personalities and interests around the table in order to keep the conversation civil and productive. (This is not unlike managing a classroom well, incidentally.) If a meeting is going on for 2 hours and there's no end in sight and people start leaving before it's over? You don't know how to run a meeting.
  
• Answering questions honestly, even when the honest answer may not be to everyone's liking. Spin is not strong leadership, particularly when you're expecting a group of people to do the motherfucking dirty work for you.
• Taking ownership over your role in a particular process. If the travesty that is driving the process is your idea, at the very least you can admit that it was all your idea and explain why. Speaking in the passive voice "it was decided..." "people have agreed..." "it is the case that..." is disingenuous at best. Dude, if you're behind the steering wheel, admit it. Be responsible for it. Take the punches that you fucking deserve for it. You can't keep your hands clean and be a strong leader.
  
• Understanding that you don't get to decide things in a vacuum only to force faculty to come together under false pretenses to ratify your decisions.
• Asking for input before decisions are made, not after. (I suppose that's the same thing as the last bullet, only stated differently.)
• Realizing that getting people to buy into a process isn't a matter of making decrees or coercing people through scare-tactics (ahem, did we learn NOTHING from the Bush presidency?), but rather about persuading them that their investment in the process actually means something and that it will have tangible, and hopefully positive, results.
• Making friends with people who have big mouths and getting them to use their big mouths to support you rather than to fight you. And if you try to persuade them and they aren't buying it? Maybe you need to listen to their objections and really take them to heart. And maybe even try to address them directly, rather than just responding with fucking sound bites.
• Inspiring trust in those whom one expects to do the heavy lifting.
  

You know why tenure matters? Above and beyond academic freedom in scholarship and in the classroom? It matters because when we don't have strong administrative leadership, and I suspect this happens at all institutions in a variety of contexts at one time or another, somebody needs to be able to speak up, loudly and clearly, on behalf of students, on behalf of faculty, and on behalf of the future of the institution. Tenure has made little difference to me in terms of my scholarship or my teaching. I have never felt in jeopardy in those areas, and I think my institution values my autonomy in those areas. Where tenure has meant the most to me is that I don't have to hold back at all when it comes to fighting bullshit that will hurt my university, my colleagues, or my students. Now, my loud and contentious voice may not make any difference. But at the very least I do have the power to say my piece without fear of losing my job. And since I'm being put in a position where I'm being expected to "participate in" (read: authorize) things that entirely contravene our mission and our values, then I need that power and I need to use it.

But you know what I want? I want a leader. I want a person who will make it unnecessary for me to feel enraged and to go into battle mode. This is not to say that I want a leader who agrees with me in all things or who serves my interests above all others. No, that wouldn't be a good, strong leader. I want a leadership that has a vision, that articulates it clearly, and that doesn't try to pass things through under the radar. I want to be able to be a team player, even if I don't entirely agree, because I trust the ones leading me. I want to feel secure in my leadership's intentions, and I want to be reassured that I don't need to raise hell if I disagree with something because even if I express an objection quietly and civilly that it will be taken into account. I want to be confident in my leadership, knowing that it is making decisions with students, the faculty, and the institution as its first and most important priority. I want leadership that does not betray me, that does not use my hard work to advance a policy or program change only, in the implementation phase of that change after it has been approved, to strip that change of any value or meaning. I don't want to feel as if my leadership is taking advantage of my initiative, abilities, charisma, and intelligence. I want to feel as if my leadership values those qualities in me, respects them, and uses them to initiate positive change.

Look, I believe in compromise. I believe that it's impossible to make all people happy all of the time, and I believe that it's not my leadership's job to make me happy. But I also believe that if you expect people to serve, if you request their service, that you should value that service when it is given. And you should honor the spirit of the final product that those people produce.

I've had two experiences with leadership this week. One of those experiences was exemplary, in terms of demonstrating exactly the qualities that a strong leader has. The other, not so much. Tragically, the lack of leadership that I experienced this week is going to affect every single student at my university, and just about every single colleague of mine within my college.

I am angry, I am demoralized, and I am in no way going to shut the fuck up about the latter of the two experiences. Maybe my angry outcry will make no difference. Probably it won't. But I want it made very clear that I do not endorse what is happening, especially since when everybody was busy trying to get the thing support in the first place, I was the motherfucking spokesmodel.

Lesson learned.

I'm a Professor, Not an Administrator

As a professor, I value a lot of things. I value helping students to learn. I value ideas and research. I even value the service that one performs - participating in important conversations about curricular development, policy decisions, etc.

And as a professor, I'm a very hard worker. I put great effort into the work that I do, and I want to take pride in doing my job well.

I am not an administrator. And the more administrative duties that somehow land in my lap, the more I have to pick and choose which parts of my job I will do adequately and which parts of my job I let slide. Notice that there is no pride in doing a good job in this scenario, because it's pretty much impossible to do a really good job when you're being pulled in about a thousand different directions. Especially when some of those directions in which you're being pulled are into doing administrative bean-counting that has nothing fucking to do with being a college professor.

And here's the thing: I have no administrative ambitions. I want to be a professor. According to my contract, that is what I have been hired to be. So you know what? I really wish that people who are administrators would take care of the administrating, and let me do my job.

RBOC: It's Tuesday

• I was late for every single thing today. Late for a meeting (15 minutes); late for both of my classes (5 minutes for each).
• I am so freaking done with this semester. Who's with me?
• I found out that one of my bright and most darling students was accepted into Teach for America!!!!!! I'm so happy!!!!! I'm so proud!!!!! I'm so excited!!!!!
• The above excitement is only magnified by the fact that this student had been toying (in an ambivalent way) with pursuing grad studies in the field in which we are currently hiring. Remember that song in the movie Heathers? Teenage Suiciiiiide - Don't Do It! Well, I would like to do a version of that song called Grad School'n Engliiiiiish - Don't Do It! I mean, the quality of our candidates is so. freaking. awesome. We have our pick. And we are so not that great.
• Deliberations about job candidates were interesting today, mainly because of the varying perspectives of my colleagues. It is so interesting how different the perspectives of people who've been around for 20+ years are compared with the perspectives of those who've been around for 10 years or less, and then compared with the grad student on our committee (who is learning LOADS). At the end of the day, I'm very pleased with how things are going, though interviewing at MLA will be interesting, given the fact that I'm interviewing with a colleague who... well, let's just say that our perspectives about what counts in a candidate are not identical. This actually is probably a really good thing, in that it means the initial interview process will really reflect the two ends of the spectrum in my department. On the other hand, dude. I sort of wonder how a candidate is going to be able to process the two of us in the same (bed)room. (I get along with this colleague just fine - this isn't about tension between me and the colleague. It's just, wow do we see the profession and our institution differently. And I'm sure that will come across in interviews.)
• I love T.S. Eliot. I mean, it's not true love or anything, but it's definitely some sort of love. And I don't get why students find him so repellent. I mean "Tradition and the Individual Talent" is pure critical gold. "But of course, only those who have personality and emotions know what it means to want to escape from those things." Genius.
• I also realized that I have an unhealthy love for D.H. Lawrence. I've suspected this for some time, but seriously, Lawrence is like the boyfriend you have who is a bad decision. He has a bad attitude and he treats you like crap, but he is compelling in a way that those nice boys who have good qualities that you really should seek out just aren't. And sure, he's annoying, too, and a little creepy. But yet, he is so freaking cool. Really. This is how I feel about the Lawrence. And yes, I recognize that this is a personal problem.
• Speaking of boyfriends who were bad decisions, a pseudo-ex of mine has been commenting on my Facebook status updates, always with comments about how books are obsolete. I don't get why he wants to be my Pretender to Illiteracy Friend on Facebook, but I feel that his reappearance in my world is perhaps indicative of New Things To Come. I hope that these things do not involve illiterate wankers, though he may indeed be the harbinger of such.
• In other news, what's with high school boys who were never boyfriends or pseudo-exes or even bad decisions (for they were busy going out with "cool" girls while you were editor of the school newspaper and singing in choir) but who indicate that they want to read one's book (although they are not academics) and then perform a massive fail by going MIA immediately after one sends them some chapters of said book in PDF (for one was never going to send an actual copy of the book)? And then you admonish them after like a week of radio silence along the lines of "um, dude, I sent you chapters of my book and you've not written back" with "please be patient, hon! I'm on vacation even though I haven't had a job in months. I want to devote proper time and attention to your brilliant ideas." A. He called me "hon." As my high school best friend quipped, "Who does he think he is? Flo from Mel's Diner?" B. Who gets a vacation when they're not motherfucking working? I mean, dude, I don't get "vacations" and I work like a dog. Look, I understand that nobody really wants to read my book. But if you pretend you do, and you convince me enough that I scan some chapters to send to you, you're obligated. And in a timely fashion. As I noted "I'm an impatient person." The fact of the matter is, you insisted and I relented. You owe me a motherfucking email, stupid boy from high school who claimed to have a crush on me once upon a time. If your crush was pure and true, you'd at least respond when I bestow my book upon you. And you probably wouldn't call me "hon." Because that's just gross.
• FB is ignoring me. I'm not entirely certain about why, though I do have some ideas.
  
• I am so. freaking. tired. Seriously: is this semester not done?
  
• I feel that the above is all for now. More in the coming days, I'm sure.
  

I Hate That This Is Still Something That I Am Dealing With

Remember that university-wide curriculum thingumbob I had something to do with? Well, it's passed our university curriculum committee and our faculty senate, and you'd think I'd not have to deal with it any longer, and yet, here I am. A) I hate people, B) I hate this thing, and C) I hate the fact that I allowed the "final" proposal to go forward with something that is totally freaking stupid because I was "picking my battles." Let's just note, re: C, that the people who I appeased are no longer dealing with the thing, and so I should have just alienated those people and steamrolled them in order to make my life easier now. So much for compromise. Compromise is for losers.

Narratives of "Deserving" and Morale

I had a conversation with a colleague last week, the sort of conversation that often will happen around this time of the semester when everybody's feeling overwhelmed and stressed out and like the semester can't end quickly enough. It wasn't a significant conversation in itself, but it's had me thinking about two things that I've connected periodically over the last year throughout discussions about budget crises, curriculum, faculty workload, etc: questions of "deserving" and of "morale."

I'll take the second part first. Morale. There have been a lot of discussions over the past year or two at my institution about faculty and staff "morale" - or, rather, not really discussions. Really, the "discussion" amounts to, "Oh, morale is so low. I've never seen people with such low morale." And then that's pretty much the end of it. Sure, people might go on to cast aspersions on the administration, to bemoan the quality or behavior of students, to question policy decisions, or whatever. But the foundation of those comments is always this issue of "morale" as if it's some uniformly problematic thing and as if it is evidence that All Things are Wrong in the World.

Look, I'm not going to pretend that I'm always the most positive, shiny, happy employee - you'd all know that's not true. We all get disgruntled from time to time. What gets me about the turn toward talking about disgruntlement in terms of "morale" is that it's a way of flattening out the issues and of stopping conversation - and that's whether it's a term engaged by faculty and staff or whether it's a term engaged by administration. Instead of talking about specific, practical issues that we can address, we instead talk about how everybody's in a bad mood, as if all bad moods have the same root causes, and as if just solving the "morale" problem would make the practical problems go away.

Except "morale" is a large and unwieldy concept, and what may improve my morale may not improve everybody's. So the more we reduce our conversations to the narrative of "low morale," the more time we take away from actual problem-solving, or so it seems to me.

Because, here's the thing: "morale" seems to me to be bound to people's personal ideas about what they "deserve." When people don't believe they are "getting what they deserve," then morale is low. But, see, this is the weird thing about "deserving." "Deserving" implies entitlement. And the people I know with the lowest morale seem to characterize their complaints in terms of this sense of individual entitlement, and they don't seem to think about the big picture very much. I don't say this to dismiss individual concerns - and I don't say this to indicate that I myself haven't fallen prey to characterizing my own experience in exactly the same way. But. I question the utility of approaching one's working life from that perspective.

Does this mean that I think people don't "deserve" things? Well, not exactly. It's just, you know where we also see these narratives of deserving? On reality television. Pay attention the next time you're watching some ridiculous show. "I deserve to be here." "I didn't deserve to be eliminated." "I deserve to win this challenge." "I deserve that money." I deserve, I deserve, I deserve. And I know when I see Robin on Top Chef, for example, talking about how she "deserves" to remain in the competition, I think she's a total and complete idiot. It seems to me that when we enter the narrative of "deserving" that it's just not a terribly compelling narrative.

Or let's think about a closer-to-home example. A student who has earned a C on an assignment comes in to complain that he or she "deserves" an A. How much credence does that complaint have, 9 times out of 10? Does insisting that he or she "deserves" that A really make the argument more compelling? How often does the word "deserve" get used when what we really mean is "want"? And sure, none of us likes it when we don't get what we want, and sure, we may see not getting what we want as unjust. But just because we wanted something and we didn't get it, it doesn't mean that saying, "But I deserved x,y,z!" will make the outcome any different. Neither narratives of "deserving" nor narratives of "morale" seem rooted to reality and practical solutions. Both seem most frequently to be narratives of unfulfilled desire. How exactly can we practically address unfulfilled desire, whatever the objects of desire are?

I think my answer to that question is that we can't. When I think about my colleagues who sing the "bad morale" song, these are people who, even if their every desire was fulfilled, would still be dissatisfied. This isn't to dismiss legitimate concerns about workload or policy decisions, but rather to note that the people who talk to me most frequently about the "low morale" problem and about how faculty/staff aren't "getting what they deserve" also tend to be the people who opt out of the heavy lifting required for change. In fact, I think people often address their concerns about this stuff to me because I'm a heavy lifter by nature. I think they figure that if they complain to me that I'll get my hands dirty fighting their battles, while they get to sit back and complain about how I do so. (This isn't generous of me, but this is how it feels.) And the fact of the matter is, even if I did go to bat for all of these people, and even when I have on occasion done so, these people still aren't happy. So is the institution responsible for that? Trends in higher more generally?

Look, there are a good many things that I'd like to change at my institution. And let's note for the record that I've been very active in working to change a good number of things, particularly since receiving tenure both at the department and university levels. I'm not this stupid, foolish Happy Camper who doesn't see problems. I just don't see how it helps anything for me to be miserable and to spread my misery around to other people by bemoaning "low morale" or whining about how I "deserve" better. That's what I'd characterize as a waste of my already limited time and energy.

I guess the bottom line is that I want to change the conversation from one that centers on something I can't control - like morale - to one that I can do something about. And I'd like for the people who want to list their litany of complaints to me when they could be helping to make things better to stop doing that. I mean, seriously.

Long. Motherfucking. Day.

I awakened this morning around 7. I then proceeded to drink coffee, to read blogs, to write a blog post, etc. I then, at around 8:30, decided it was time to shower. Tragically, I could not shower as the water in my neighborhood was shut off because of road resurfacing. Thus, I had to brush my teeth with water from the refrigerator and perfume and deodorant it up and hope for the best. Gross.

I then proceeded to a 9:30 appointment which took an hour. I then graded for an hour and a half, and then I met with a student for about 45 mins. I realized it was unrealistic to think I'd finish grading. So I went off to teach my class. My students, well, they looked wiped. about 5 people are out with a flu-like illness, and the rest - dead tired. Given my own state, I said, "students, I am not this sort of professor, but I shall take pity on you. Go. Use this hour wisely."

I, however, did not get an hour to use wisely or otherwise. For one of my students asked me if I would talk to her about options after graduation. Apparently, her adviser is "weird." I don't know who it is, but whatever. She's a nice student and I was happy to help. I then found a request for a recommendation for Americorps in my in-box, for a former student who's great but dude. I have no time to deal with it. I then stopped in to talk to my chair, and then I went off to the curriculum committee mtg. At which time, two things happened.

Remember how we were working on revamping our major requirements? Like a gajillion years ago? Well, the first (and most important) part of those changes have passed, passed, passed! Huzzah! I then somehow ended up volunteering my services for yet another fucking committee that grew out of the 3 committees I've been on since July. Never fear: this one shall only require some emailing and one meeting. I suppose I could have not volunteered, but really, I needed to do so.

That meeting done, I went back to my office to finish grading. Then I taught my grad class (which went pretty well, all things considered), and then I gave them their proposals back with an hour left to go, and then met with each of them individually, which ended up taking an hour and a half and not an hour. In between students, I advised BES about one of her statements of purpose. And then I was free to go home.

So now I'm home, I'm drinking a glass of wine, and I am looking forward to a day tomorrow that shall involve my kittens, my pajamas, and my couch. This week was brutal. This day was the most brutal of the entire week.

Damn.

My Grad Class

Enough about the search committee posts as I've now made my way through the ~150 applications we received by the deadline, I've made my long short list and checked it twice, and now I just need to wait to see how committee deliberations next week (4 hours of meetings scheduled! Fun times - not) go. From this point I will not post anything much about the search, for this is where things get more specific and I don't feel like posting further would be appropriate for the blog.

So, let's change the subject. I want to write a bit about my grad seminar that I'm teaching this term. Our MA program is basically brand spanking new, and while at first I had concerns about us starting such a program (who needs another MA program in English?) I actually see that we are fulfilling a need in the region, and so that's fine. That said, well, I got seminar paper proposals in from my students who remained in the course (lots of attrition from my initial enrollment, which I had expected would be the case, and which I'm ultimately fine with) and I am... how do I put this?

Well, let me back up. When I designed this course, I was very clear about the fact that I could not just put together a course that would have passed for graduate-level in my own experience. Most of our students are working full time, and they just don't have the time to devote to reading or the sense of graduate-level expectations for workload that I had in my own grad experience. So, in thinking about the course design, I very clearly wanted to set up a schedule that pushed the students but also that gave them a lot of milestones throughout so that they could chart their progress.

So, whereas in my grad work, where the reading expectation was something like 1 novel per week plus secondary readings and theory, in this course, students are reading about half of the amount. I'm ok with that, as I'd rather have them do all of the half amount of reading rather than none of a larger amount of reading. And whereas my seminars with rare exceptions had a grade breakdown of 80% seminar paper (with no proposal assignment or anything folded into that) and 20% a presentation/discussion-lead and participation, my course has more bites at the grading apple. Presentation; Participation; Proposal/Annotated bibliography; Reading Journal; Seminar Paper, with percentages distributed more evenly across assignments (though the seminar paper is still the largest percentage). Again, for my student population, I think this makes sense. In my grad programs, the expectation was that you'd be doing things like a reading journal, refining a topic and doing research, participating, without instruction. My students, for the most part, did not enter this program with a level of preparedness that would indicate that they would do these things without them being assigned. I don't think that it's a bad thing for me to make these requirements explicit, given my context, so that's fine, too.

What concerns me is not the structure of the course or my level of expectation. I put a lot of time into designing the course, and I think it's a good one. And, for the most part, the students are bright and enthusiastic, if perhaps a bit lacking in maturity and seriousness compared with grad students at research-heavy institutions. But.

I was totally shocked by the quality - or lack thereof - of their proposals for their seminar papers. (In general - some proposals were alright, I suppose.) Here is what surprised me:

• Quality of writing. Poor word choice, lack of clarity, failure to proofread.
• Failure to comply with the required topics that the proposal assignment indicated that they should address. Because that's the thing: I didn't just say "hand in a proposal" - I gave them an assignment that broke down explicitly the information such a proposal should include.
• Lack of specificity. This goes along with the first two bullets, but it's also a distinct issue. Ultimately, I don't think the majority of them actually revised the proposal before turning it in.

These three things shocked me, not in the least because I spent a good hour of a class session discussing the proposal assignment and its link to the final paper in class (something that also never happened in my own grad career).

I mean, these are graduate students. Not grad students in a top program, surely, but still: why would a person pursue a graduate degree if one didn't intend to do one's best on all assignments? I just don't get it.

I mean, I get it when undergrads don't necessarily apply themselves on all assignments. It's not what I'd wish, but I understand it. This, though, I do not understand.

Also, let me be frank: most of my undergraduates who are majors in upper-level courses produce better topic proposals than what I got from my grad students. At the very least, they follow directions. But more often than not, a good number actually have really interesting ideas above and beyond meeting the basic requirements of an assignment.

So I guess what I am, beyond anything else, is disappointed. I'm going to force some of them to redo the assignment before I'll pass it (something I'd never imagined I'd have to do) and I think I'm going to take time in class tonight for them to workshop their proposals with comments and to meet with them individually while they do so. I feel like this is a freshmen comp style thing to do, and I think it's infantilizing, but I think they all will benefit from it. I'd rather infantilize them and help them to do well than to treat them like grown-ups and have them all tank the paper.

It does suck, though, that this is where we are at this point in the semester. I'd just expected so much more from them.

More on The Search with WAY Too Many Applications

I thought since I'm such a crappy blogger lately that I should turn my response back to recent comments into a post. I know. Lame. But what can I do? I'm swamped with stuff right now, and all I want to do is whine. I think Facebook has become my whining place now, and so that leaves me silent on the blog more often than has historically been my norm. But seriously, people, I feel like I'm going to collapse on the spot. Between teaching and mentoring and grading and committee work and showing up at things and yadda yadda yadda, I ain't got no ideas at the end of the day worth blogging about. I'm just fried.

But so anyway, to get to some things that showed up in the comments. First, the easy one. A number of people have marvelled at the number of applications I described as "strong" in my previous post. Let me clarify: that percentage was not about perfect fit. That percentage was about "strong candidate who could easily do a tenure-track job, who's got the package of research and teaching and all that jazz and who has the degree (or will have by date of appointment) and who is in the general area in which we are searching. " Having looked at more than 125 applications now, I would still say that about 75% of those fit that bill. But. That doesn't mean that 75% of those are *ideal* for us specifically. Just that let's say it were the apocalypse and all of those who were *ideal* were washed away in a flood. We could easily come up with 10 candidates who would do from the survivors, and we could hire one of them, and it would likely be just fine. Now, in terms of applicants who hit the sweet spot of multiple of our preferences, and whose letters I liked and who sounded interesting and cool and like they'd actually be into working here, I'd say that we're looking at more like 15-20%. In order to get to a reasonable interviewable number, we'll need to get rid of about 2/3 of the people from that long short list.

On the one hand, this is an embarassment of riches. I think in part it's because we wrote a strong ad that really did communicate what we needed and really did narrow the pool. (If we had sent off the original draft of the ad without making it more specific, I truly believe that we'd have gotten like 7,000 applications.) While there are a some folks who are really trying to stretch in ways that would win them the title of ultimate Twister player, for the most part, we're getting applicants who do have business applying for this position. Also, in part, I think this has to do with the fact that we are in what many would consider a pretty decent location. On the other, the fact that we've got so many people who we could reasonably interview/hire makes the whole process, as Hylonome wrote, "exhausting and, at times, devastating." We are not just trying to find 10 qualified people to interview. We are in a position where qualifications are so totally beside the point. Instead, this process is going to be about splitting hairs. And with that being the case, it's not about qualified or unqualified - it's about whether the people seem to "get" us - whatever that means. I guess I'm so insistent about this because saying "Oh, only 10% of applications are really on target or really are qualified" I think really perpetuates the myth that if one just applies to the jobs for which one is "really" qualified, that one will get a job. I think we all know that's not necessarily true. An applicant may be qualified, and an applicant *still* may be passed over. In fact, that's actually a strong possibility. Because we're going to have to kick a lot of "really" qualified folks to the curb - even before we get to the point of interviewing.

I also want to note that this job is not in one of the most totally glutted (ahem, 20th century anything) fields. I'm in one of those fields, and seriously, serving on this search has made me more committed than ever to advising my students NOT to do my field UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES if they insist on pursuing grad school, which I hate, but which really is how I feel. Because if this is how it is in a less popular field? Jesus. I don't know how anybody gets a job in the more popular ones. I don't know how I got my job, really, looking back on it all. Or, I kind of know specifically what contributed to me getting an offer, but the reality is that I was motherfucking the luckiest girl in the world. Not because I'm an imposter or I'm not smart or I wasn't qualified. But rather because I know they looked at about the same number of applications in the search for me and the fact that I made it through the various cuts given what the applicant pool probably looked like is astonishing. I'm seriously astonished that anybody gets a job, seeing what I'm seeing from this side of the table.

Also, I feel like I should note this. The applicants that I feel sorriest for are those whose dissertations really fall smack in between two hiring fields. Those people who are neither one thing nor the other. Their research sounds fascinating, but seriously: if I need to know that you can teach and advise MA theses across a hundred years of literature in a particular national tradition, if you only hit 30 years of that in your research and teaching, you're not a contender. And so I repeat the advice that I got from my dissertation adviser when I was embarking on coming up with my dissertation topic, just in case anybody is reading for whom it would be a help: a dissertation is, first and foremost, a job-seeking document. So while you may be passionate about crossing period boundaries or national traditions or genres or what have you, save that "it doesn't really fit anyplace neatly" project for after you get a job. Write a dissertation that clearly demonstrates your immersion in a hiring and teaching field. A dissertation shouldn't be the last major research project you ever do. It should be the first.

But so now on to the more difficult question that (not) just another girl posed in a comment:

you note that people need to find the time for research, but please help me figure out how the hell to do that while teaching 5-6 courses at 2 or 3 different schools a semester, and still having to pick up some kind of temp work to make ends meet. or am I, as I suspect, completely screwed and I might as well give up now, even though I've only had my degree a year.

A full time, decently paid 4/4 load with health insurance seems like the freakin' holy grail right now.

I really feel like this deserves an answer, and I am going to try to answer it as honestly as I can. First things first: I don't think only a year out of a degree is the time to give up. I do think, however, that one needs to be realistic about how long one can reasonably do the adjunct thing and remain human. Personally, I had always planned that three job market cycles would be my maximum. Again, I was totally lucky and so never had to put that plan into action, but that was my plan. I can also see 5 as being a reasonable number at the outside, if one is more patient than I am, and particularly given the funding/hiring situations at universities right now. More than that, and I say get out. Your life is more important than this profession.

But now for the actual comment. Let me note that this is only one person's (my) perspective, and other people may have differing opinions, and I'm coming at this after having reviewed all of these applications over the past couple of weeks. YMMV.

1. I really don't believe that anybody should be adjuncting teaching 5-6 classes a semester (whether at one university or multiple universities) plus temping to make ends meet. The reality is that at a certain point, more teaching experience does absolutely nothing for you, particularly if you're not getting the opportunity to develop courses in your hiring field. If my department is hiring a person to teach Medieval literature, say, the fact that you've taught basic writing, comp, technical writing, creative writing, intro to lit, the survey, and an American novel course does not do anything to assist your application. Nothing whatsoever. My impulse would be to say that it would make a hell of a lot more sense to adjunct just one or two courses per semester (to keep your hat in the academic ring) and to temp full time (which ultimately can lead to being able to buy health insurance once you've clocked a certain number of hours). On the weekends, you can work on research, which will add to your marketability in ways that teaching until your head falls off won't. And yes, that course of action sucks mightily. How do I know that? Because I temped full time the last year of my PhD program. Was it fulfilling and good and did I feel like I was using my education? No. But I paid my rent. And my fees for still being in the program. I didn't go into (much) further debt. And sure, I hated my life, but I'd have hated my life if I were adjuncting to pay the bills, too. And the adjuncting would have taken a lot more time and energy. And temping to pay the bills didn't stop me from getting an academic job.

2. Showing that you're a consistent researcher need not mean racking up publication after publication, not for a job at a place like mine. The point is not the length of the publications portion of your cv, or even quality of venues, but rather consistency. I can say this. The baseline for me in evaluating applications has basically been that a person has to have at least one or two publications. They need not be fancy, but they should be original articles and no merely encyclopedia entries or reviews. "Under review" doesn't count. "In progress" doesn't count. "Revise and resubmit" is slightly better, but it's not a publication. "Forthcoming" is grand. I want to see that you're getting your own ideas out there. If you're adjuncting, I don't expect you to be racking up publications, necessarily, but I do expect that you'd attend at least one local (or close to local) conference a year during that time if at all possible. And I'd hope that you'd gotten at least one article to publication during grad school, and attended some conferences during grad school. Again, the publication(s) could be in an essay collection, a mediocre journal, a conference proceedings. But if you've done NOTHING other than your dissertation, with the applicant pool that we've got? Well, we don't need to take a chance on you. That's the cold, hard truth.

3. You know, a 4/4 job, t-t, with benefits, is kind of the holy grail. But it's not heaven or nirvana. The fact of the matter is that in a 4/4 job, while your teaching would decrease, and your security would increase, and both of these are substantial and not-to- be-sneezed-at gains, your teaching wouldn't decrease that much, your research expectation would go from zero to not zero (even at a place like mine, where you only need a few articles to be totally sure of getting tenure, there would be external pressure there that doesn't exist if you're not in a t-t position), and at my place, your service expectation would be through the roof. In other words, while you'd have security, and more money, and slightly less teaching, you'd also have a fuck of a lot more you'd be expected to do and a fuck of a lot more riding on it. If I take into account the service and teaching portions of things, during the academic year I'm working - even now, with many courses "in the can" and a system and being all acclimated to the institution and such - an average of 60+ hours per week. Yes, I do not have the anxiety of not having money. Yes, I have job security (now nearly total since earning tenure). Yes, I have benefits. Yes, I have the holy grail. But if I want to do research, I have to make the time for research. (Which I'll note I've not done in the way that I need to since summer.) This job, my job, is not like skipping through fields of flowers and devoting myself to a life of the mind. If I get the sense from an applicant that this is their vision of what working here will be, I am immediately turned off. Why? Not because I'm personally affronted or something but rather because I think that they are completely clueless about, and thus would never be able to handle, the demands of this particular job.

4. The thing that I think is most insidious about adjunctification is that it makes applicants conceive of themselves and identify themselves as less than because they are adjuncting. Look: I've read applications from people who are part-timers, full-timers (non-t-t), VAPs, Assistant Professors - hell even a couple of associate professors who are willing to give up tenure to get out of their current situations. I've read applications from ABD folks. The fact of the matter is that my cream of the crop includes a range of folks. What matters to me isn't where you work - it's what you do. It's how you fit what we need to hire. It's whether you seem confident in your abilities, instead of beaten down by your obstacles. The fact of the matter is that adjuncting doesn't taint a candidate. What taints a candidate is whether they appear to be sucking on the lemon of adjuncting (or any other circumstance), as opposed to making lemonade out of it. And yes, this does come through in people's letters of application. I don't want to work with somebody who's all "my life's so hard," because you know what? Your life's going to be hard when you get this job, too. Even if you think now that it won't be. I want a colleague who can see the silver lining to a dark, gray, hideous cloud. I want a colleague who's excited, and positive, and who has Big Plans, in spite of obstacles. Because there will surely be obstacles here, and you'd better have the fortitude to handle them if we hire you.

But with all of that being said, I just want to note for the record that I answered at such length because I felt like the question deserved it. Adjuncting sucks. This profession is fucked up. It is totally ridiculous that I'm disqualifying people from my interview pool, at this particular university, because they don't have publications or because they aren't just exactly my fantasy candidate. But the reality of my applicant pool is that I don't have to be kind and I don't have to make any concessions. I suspect that's the reality at most places. I mean, I'm joyfully tossing aside candidates with Ivy PhDs, candidates with motherfucking books out. Because they're just not "us." And I can totally do that because I have such a huge amount of great candidates from whom to choose. It's not fair, and it's not a meritocracy. Not because our candidates that we will pick don't have merit. But rather because, in this situation, so many have merit that I don't have to bother with the ones who don't intrigue me. Whatever their pedigree, whatever their accomplishments.

And I think that's seriously the reality of the job market.

Some Thoughts on Job Applications from One Reading Them

In just a few short days, the postmark deadline for the search on which I am serving will have passed, and all of the applications will be in. I have been reading them as they come in so as not to collapse under the weight of the whole stack or to suffer from total application fatigue trying to do them all in one or two sittings. I think this has been wise on my part, as we already have close to 100. I'm guessing that we'll end somewhere in the 160-180 range.

Others before me have done tons of great posts giving advice to job seekers from the other side of the table, and people give the "other side of the table" advice all the time over in the job seeking forum at the Chronicle, so I don't aim here to do an advice-giving sort of post. Rather, I just want to make some general observations, which may or may not be useful to others.

• I'm astonished by how strong a good 75 to 80 percent of the applications are. I mean, they are phenomenal. So good that there are a lot of people who we could easily interview but we won't because they don't match quite as perfectly to our wish list of preferences. Heck, there are a good number of people who probably will get cut even though they've got ALL the preferred things. That's how great of a pool we have from which to choose. For what is not a "dream job" by any stretch. (I mean, I like it here and all, but come on. We're just not that great.)
  
• While it is true that we all must stretch a bit to fit into a job advertisement, if a department is advertising for, oh, a Shakespeare scholar, say, and your dissertation is on Kathy Acker, chances are very good that you have wasted your time in sending us your stuff, even if you did teach a Shakespeare class once.
• The most compelling letters I'm reading actually speak directly to the ad that we wrote. And that is making the difference in my rankings between people with similar CVs. I'm not talking about massive amounts of research and tailoring, here. Just people making a point of highlighting their accomplishments that match what we're looking for in the ad. So, say the ad asks for a person who has teaching or research competency in baklava and you've developed and taught a course in baklava, as well as giving a conference presentation on baklava. It's worth mentioning that.
  
• Teaching experience is an interesting and tricky thing to evaluate. I'm finding that I'm less impressed by the sheer volume of courses taught than I am by range within the areas you would teach were you hired here. For whatever that's worth.
• I find I don't care whether people lead with teaching or with research in their letter. What I care about is the balance of the two sections. Two pages on research with only a brief paragraph on teaching, for this place with a 4/4 load, well, just isn't that compelling, even if your research sets the world on fire. Makes no difference whether you put the teaching up front or at the end, in that case.
• While we are not a research-heavy institution, I (and my colleagues) really care about hiring somebody who will have a research agenda and who will be able to maintain it with this teaching load. One way to show that's possible is to prove that you've successfully balanced teaching and research already. The applications I find least impressive fall into two camps: the people who've had cushy fellowships and very little teaching throughout grad school and who yet have only like one lame publication, and the people who apply for our gig because they don't have time for research in their current one, and so haven't published or presented at conferences for like 10 years. To both of these groups, I'd like to say, did you not notice the blurb about teaching load and public outreach in our ad? Where exactly do you think you're applying? The fact is, you're going to have to find a way to produce some kind of publication(s) to get tenure here, and it's not going to be easy. If you haven't shown that you can do it in your current circumstances, why would I think you can do it in this job?
• I'm really glad I'm serving on this search. I love that I get to help in selecting a colleague who will thrive here.
  
• But wow I'm tired. If doing a job search is like its own job, so, too, is serving on a search committee.