"In many disciplines, for the majority of graduates, the Ph.D. indicates the logical conclusion of an academic career." Marc Bousquet

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Green Beer, Anyone?

I saw the delivery truck from my window this morning unloading at the bar downstairs:
I've never actually had any. Looks too much like something that came out of a bad scene like this:


I guess that's not really funny. What's happening in Japan is more than a little scary, but what's more appropriate than bad nuclear apocalypse humor on St. Patrick's Day? I say drink to it! And then go for a swim here:


Yes, that is really the Chicago River, and, yes, every year for St. Patty's Day the city dyes it plutonium shamrock green. Sure looks radioactive, but they say it "has been thoroughly tested by independent chemists and has been proven safe for the environment."

Whatever floats your boat.

Cheers!

Friday, March 11, 2011

Spring Break Book Recommendation: Arin Greenwood’s Tropical Depression

If you’re on Spring Break this week or looking forward to it next and wished you had made plans to skip town for a tropical island, then I recommend picking up a copy of Arin Greenwood’s first novel Tropical Depression (2010). Catch a vicarious flight (or 5) to a remote would-be paradise, “part of a chain of islands right smack in the middle of the Pacific, in that big stretch of blue—south of Japan and north of Australia, east of the Philippines and west of Hawaii—that looks empty on the map.”

Aren’t you already eager to escape your wintery doldrums and mountains of midterm grading? Ready for warm turquoise waters, gentle surf, soft beaches, languid afternoons, lush jungles, bright flowers, exotic birds, mangoes that fall ripe from the trees?

Perhaps, like the novel’s protagonist Nina, you are expecting to “escape to paradise. Get a tan, forget your troubles, forget yourself. Wear a thong?”

Paradise is never what we expect it to be.

As the novel opens, Nina, a young attorney from New York City, finds herself—all in the same day—fired from a job she hates at a firm that defends Big Tobacco and dumped by a boyfriend she still very much loves. When the opportunity arises to take a job as a law clerk on an island that is part of the U.S. territories in the Pacific, Nina jumps at the opportunity to put relationship angst and professional malaise behind her, embracing a fantasy in which the island is “empty, devoid of people, devoid of judgment.” She imagines, “sitting on a quiet beach where no one will see me, except whoever is in charge of bringing me fruity drinks. I see myself having a torrid affair with a beautiful local boy who climbs coconut trees to fetch me coconuts, who doesn’t speak English and so can’t ask me why I have absconded to this deserted island and how I plan to spend the rest of my life.”

A fantasy, indeed. While the island, “Miramar,” does have some beautiful beaches, it also has a “fecal lagoon” (there’s no proper sewage treatment), countless stripper/poker/karaoke dive bars (the detritus of a decaying tourist industry), corrupt judges and politicians, Americans expats, and all manner of drunks and gossips. There’s even an attractive, bad-boy CIA operative (probable—we never find out for sure if he’s a spy) who reminds Nina of her ex-boyfriend.

While Nina is somewhat horrified when she first arrives (not least by the lack of decent vegetarian food and the wretched polyester suits her boss makes her wear), she eventually begins to fit in among the locals better than she ever expected she would—a “misfit” among “mercenaries, missionaries, and misfits.” She snorkels, SCUBA dives, goes parasailing, has affairs with two men, and generally entangles her life in the life and lives of the island.

But even amidst these entanglements, the past is never far away. The island has rumors of ghosts of its own, and Nina can't ever seem to forget the joy and sorrow of her old relationship and the life she left behind when it ended. Why should it so hard for a girl just to get away? To escape herself and start fresh? To let go of the past?

Perhaps it is most difficult to get away from the past when one has never truly lived—or forgotten how to live—in the present. By the end of her adventure, Nina wonders, “if I ever really appreciated anything while I actually had it.”  

Who ever really does? It’s one of the hardest things to do: to accept the simple pleasures of life and the people who share them with us, to accept and relish the present, whether in New York or on a tropical island—to appreciate and then, when the time is right, to let go. As Nina is preparing to leave, she finds, “it is mango season again.” With her sometime lover, “sweet George,” she tastes the gloriously sweet flesh of the fruit, “try[ing] to record the taste of this fruit on my tongue, in my brain.”  They “eat the mangoes together and don’t talk much.” Indeed, the present is sweet, and it’s so easy to forget that sweetness of the here-and-now while you are—as we all often are—caught up in the what-has-been or what-will-be.

And so we seek escape in order that we may return to taste the present.

Wherever you are this week of break and almost spring, release your thoughts of past and future. Let go of your expectations. Put your students, your job market woes, your research and writing plans aside. Enjoy your well-deserved mid-semester escape, whether you are at home or on an adventure of your own. Eat a mango—or whatever fruit falls nearby.

 And read Arin’s book.

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Blogger's Block

Have any of you readers experienced this? What do you do to get back in your bloggy groove?

I'm just drawing a great big blank right now. There are things to write about, but none of them seem worth writing about right now. What are they?

Well...

There's the novel published by an acquaintance. I'd like to write a review, but I haven't finished it yet.

There's the Atlas Shrugged movie coming out soon. I have some things to say about the novel, especially given my current workplace, but it's been so long since I've read it that I need to reread in order to say anything intelligent. Haven't gotten around to that yet, either.

The Event in April on Cupcake Heap is going to be really fun-times to help organize, but it isn't far enough along for me to have anything to say about it yet (and, who knows, it may actually be fun).

Then there's other workplace nonsense, like the flooded basement that's been flooded for several days and is beginning to make the back hallway, even up here on the second floor, smell like rat corpses.

Let's see...what else?

What about unions/pensions/protests in Wisconsin? As the offspring of K-8 teachers who were active in their union (and, in their retirement, beneficiaries of it, as I am by extension), I feel like I ought to comment on recent events, but I don't feel like it.

Hmmmrumph....you get the idea. I could go the route of RBOC, riffing on the theme of "broken":
  • Broken dress zipper -- it zips properly but then, midway through the day, starts pulling up from the bottom. No wonder the thing was on sale! 
  • Broken chair arm -- the screw keeps unscrewing, until I taped it with blue packing tape today.
  • Broken vacuum at home that won't pick up cat fur anymore (and, yes, that's a problem!)
  • Broken yoga routine -- haven't been going to practice lately.
  • Broken band practice -- yes, I'm in a band, but no one wants to practice until the album's done, and it's not yet (well, everything's recorded, but we need to get funds together for mixing and mastering and cover artwork and CDs -- and no one feels like thinking about new material or practicing old material for new shows until the album is "officially" done).
  • Broken screens -- on the enclosed porch of my house where the cats like to go when the weather gets warm. We leave the inner door open when it starts turning nice out, so they can go out and air can circulate in through the house, but it's on the second floor. And the broken screens are a hazard to cats who think they can fly (I lied in my earlier post about my cat being smart), not to mention an invitation to the bugs I'm not looking forward to hosting.
  • Broken door knobs -- front door at home. Knob's been broken for a couple of weeks now. Just needs a screwdriver and some attention. No one bothers. It falls off every other time you open or close the door. 
  • Broken....I dare not say (bl_g)??
And that's about all the bull$hit I can muster, but, for realz readers, if you've made it to the end of this silly post, how's about sharing your tips for overcoming blogger's block?

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

They Are Already Asking Me to Adjunct This Fall

Yes, friends, after they stiffed me this semester and offered only 2 classes (which, if you've been following the blog from the beginning, is what finally pushed me over the edge into secretaryland), Scheduler of Adjuncts at Grad University is now e-mailing that there will be "several sections" available of Intro to Ruining Your Life by Majoring in English, a required upper-level course. This is in addition to pretty much as many sections of freshman comp as I'd be willing to take -- all of this after I bailed out a week before classes started this spring.

Right. Um. I Don't Think So.

Let's remind ourselves of why:

If I quit my secretary job to teach 4-6 classes in the fall (which would only just barely match the salary for that same period), would I have to scramble again for work in the spring with the usual drop in enrollments? Yes.

Would it be fun to teach Intro to Ruining Your Life by Majoring in English again? No. It was fun a few years ago, but, back then, it was called The Joyful Hermeneutics of Self-Delusion -- Or, Why Literary Studies Rules.

Would it be fun to teach freshman composition again? No. The students improve by the end, and they know it. That's a nice, warmfuzzy reward, but I'm done with the warmfuzzies. You can't pay your winter gas bill with warmfuzzies. Also, after teaching this class for so many years, I got pretty good at it, and I've also become pretty bored with it. If they want me to teach this, they should offer more money.

Would I teach it if they offered me more? No. Salary alone would not make up for lack of job security and lack of respect.

Would my work as an adjunct ever lead to permanent employment? No.

Even if I published my heart out while teaching 4+ classes, would I ever be eligible for promotion not to the tenure track but to -- let's say-- a three-year contract position? No, not at Grad University.

Would I ever get a raise for doing my job well? No. I didn't even get the raise I was supposed to get upon receiving the Ph.D. (don't ya love budget cuts and salary freezes?).

So, yeah, Scheduler of Adjuncts, the answer is NO.

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Does Persistence Get You What You Want?

Dear Honorable Colleague,

I agree that persistence can pay off sometimes, but where do you draw the line between being persistent and being a pest? Within the past 24 hours, I have sent 5 emails and left 2 voicemails for the Important Person you asked me to reach. I suspect IP is not responding because -- while I mention your name and indicate I am trying to make contact on your behalf -- I am an inconsequential Nobody. If IP is someone you know, wouldn't it make sense for the initial contact to come from you? You could then direct IP to me, and I could take care of the details you don't want to deal with.

Maybe I'm wrong, but if IP has been checking hir messages and voicemail, ze must surely be aware that I've been trying to get in touch regarding your event, but I'll keep trying if that's what you want. Honestly, though, I don't think this is going to go anywhere until you reach out yourself. I'm pretty sure IP's secretary, after asking my name when I called this morning, checked to see if ze was "in" first before directing me to voicemail. I'm also pretty sure IP was, in fact, in.

I hope you understand I'm not trying to to shirk my duties here. I'd really like to help you, but you might need to take the proverbial bull by the horns on this one.

Sincerely,
Recent Ph.D.
P.S. It'd also be nice, when you ask me to email people inviting them to your event, if you included their last names. An email address and/or company affiliation would be optimal, but at the very least, I need last names. Otherwise, Peter, Paul, and Mary are just a bunch o' hippie communist folksinger freaks (and I'm sure you wouldn't want me inviting THEM). Thanks!

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Stop Comparing Careers in Academe to Careers in the Arts

In frequent blogosphere conversations about the difficulties a recent Ph.D. may face on the job market, someone (usually someone already tenured and otherwise well-situated) almost always compares the competitiveness of finding tenure-track employment to building a successful career as an artist, musician, writer, or actor.

I find this comparison not only inaccurate and misleading but unhelpful to the larger project of – maybe one day in the far distant future – remedying some of the systemic problems that have caused the shortage of tenure-track positions in the first place.

We should agree to stop making this comparison because:

Unlike aspiring artists, aspiring academics are needed by the institutions they serve.
Aspiring academics who start graduate school as teaching assistants and work their way through and beyond as adjuncts, postdocs, and VAPs are serving a vital institutional and societal function for a pittance without a clear path towards job security and a living wage, no matter how good they are as teachers and scholars. Colleges and universities could not function without them. While aspiring artists also do not have a clear path towards job security, may also be working for a pittance, and do make valuable cultural contributions, they are not serving the needs of this country’s major educational institutions. We cannot continue to promote the idea that “every child should have access to a college education” without publicly acknowledging the unfair labor practices that make fulfilling this mandate a realistic possibility.

Artists can be working artists while working “day jobs”; academics cannot.
Aspiring artists, actors, writers, and musicians may earn little as they build their careers drawing caricatures at carnivals, teaching stage fighting at community centers, writing poetry in the evenings, or playing wedding gigs on the weekends, but they have the liberty of working “day jobs.” Aspiring academics do not. Even after we have acquired as much teaching, publishing, and conferencing experience as we will ever need to be “good” candidates for assistant professor positions, we must remain affiliated with an institution in order to retain our long-term credibility as academic job candidates, which means sacrificing the financial autonomy and “real world” work experience a “day job” can offer a graduate student or recent Ph.D. for the exploitive absurdity of adjuncthood.

The personal and financial investments are not equivalent.
Aspiring academics in the humanities spend 6-10 years of their adult lives acquiring professional credentials in graduate school. A Ph.D. is necessary to becoming a “successful” academic, but no such credential is necessary to achieve success in the arts. While “successful” artists, musicians, writers, and actors are highly skilled, they may or may not have acquired that skill through formal education and may not have even completed a four-year degree. The personal and financial investments are not equivalent – that is, nobody still “aspires” to be a symphony musician at 38 years of age with fifty thousand dollars in unpaid student loan debt, yet this situation is not uncommon among aspiring academics.

It is a myth that there is a clear and well-defined line of merit – in both academe and the arts – between those who “make it” and those who do not.
Yes, people who become symphony musicians and tenure-track professors are very good at what they do and deserve to be where they are. And, yes, in both professional domains there exists a spectrum of talent, but most people who are good enough to get paid (or underpaid, as the case may be) to play an instrument or teach English at a university fall somewhere in the middle, neither completely  incompetent nor extraordinarily gifted. In both examples, the symphony musician and the professor, there are many, many others who could be doing their jobs – indeed, even excelling at those jobs.

My point here is not to say that “successful” people are undeserving or that competition is bad but rather that what we are talking about when we talk about the “competitiveness” of achieving success in academe and in the arts is only partially about merit. Yes, talent gets you in the door and up the first few steps. Talent and hard work make you “competitive” as a candidate for that symphony or tenure-track position, but it isn’t – with very few exceptions -- what ultimately gets you the job. You get the job because you were not only “competitive” but because you were in the right place at the right time, because you were willing to take anything and go anywhere, and, above all, because you “fit” – because, among the two or three or ten or a hundred or a thousand “competitive” candidates, your personality and scholarship “fit” within a department, your instrumental tone “fit” a conductor’s orchestral conception.

By arguing this last point, I am, in fact, claiming that there is a valid comparison to be made between careers in the arts and in academe, but it is not the comparison usually made by those who have “made it” – at least not in academe. Those academics who usually make this comparison do so to validate privilege and to justify complicity with an unjust and exploitative system of labor.

We should demand equal pay for equal work.
Valid comparisons aside, the violinist who plays wedding gigs and teaches fourth graders is not performing the same work as the symphony violinist, even if they are equally talented. The symphony musician works under a different and more rigorous set of demands, and those demands are reflected in hir pay and benefits. On the contrary, adjuncts and professors often teach exactly the same courses. In an English department, while adjuncts may teach the majority of the composition sections and tenure-track faculty the majority of graduate courses, there are a great many courses in institutions that rely heavily on adjuncts, including courses for majors, taught regularly by both adjuncts and professors.Yet, the inequality in compensation is startling. Numbers vary from institution to institution, but they never come out fairly. For example, an assistant professor at a regional state university may earn $48K for teaching 3/3. Since a 4/4 teaching load is considered full-time, that means ze should be devoting three quarters of hir time to teaching responsibilities and one quarter to research and service. In other words, ze is paid $36K to teach six courses a year. That’s $6K per course. Adjuncts in the humanities at flagship R1 state universities don’t earn anywhere near $6K per course, let alone adjuncts at regional state schools.

* * * * *

For all the reasons listed above, we should stop comparing careers in academe to careers in the arts. It is an inaccurate and misleading comparison that distracts us from the real problems with a two-tiered faculty system – a system that has led to a serious class divide which ultimately threatens the quality of postsecondary education in this country. Academics tend to lean left politically, often arguing through their scholarship and teaching for more equality in our society, yet the unfairness and class division within our own community is shameful. Comparing ourselves to artists – adjuncts to starving artists, professors to stars – romanticizes a problem we ought to be working harder to fix. We need to look honestly and critically at who WE are, not at who we might fancy ourselves to be.

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

View from Office Window

Sun casting shadows,
Trees upon snow; traffic flows,
Streams past rising stone.