Yes, wonderful readers, I am pleased to announce that my school has agreed to tenure and promote me! I got the letter today.
All I can think is, "Phew! That is over!" Seriously, I just kinda want to sleep and chill out. I have been more and more anxious as the notification date drew nearer, and all I can feel is sweet relief.
So, call me "Lesboprof, Associate Professor!"
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Thursday, March 08, 2007
Privilege You Can Feel, Even If You Can't Always Name It
If you get a chance, go read Tenured Radical's response on her blog to Horace's posting on doing reviews and other professional service. While her post is most clearly about tenure and the limitations and problems brought on by those expectations, she also brings up the issue of the competitive nature of tenure and the inequality of those competing. As someone who has frequently felt undervalued and undersupported (but doesn't now, which is incredibly nice!), it struck a chord with me.
When TR discussed the issue of privilege, I was reminded of my grad work in "Other Field." In that department, those with great GPAs, GREs, and references from the right undergraduate schools got better financial support than those towards the middle of the crowd in one or more of those areas. (As a girl with very strong GREs but a problematic transcript from state schools, I fell into the latter group.)
Strangely enough(!), the students who had fellowships (read: no labor attached) got through the program faster, did better in classes, and graduated more quickly than those who had TA's. And those with TA's did better than those of us doing other jobs, like work-study, residence life, and other low-pay labor. Some might argue that this clearly showed that they chose correctly--the cream rose to the top, and they funded the people who should have been funded.
But what would have happened if we had all had better funding? If we had all had to work a little, teach a little, and have time just getting funds without any strings attached?
As someone who worked, I always felt a little behind my "supported" colleagues. And none of the faculty would acknowledge how our time spent working impacted our capacity to produce and succeed. Instead, those of us who were doing low-paid labor got seen as less capable, got less mentoring, and never became the "teacher's pet." One of the most thoughtful and capable students I know who did not finish her doctoral degree worked almost full-time during her grad study. But everyone treated her like she should have been able to compete with our fully-funded counterparts, and they were reluctant to give her any financial assistance through the program. I wonder how her life would be different if she had been fully funded.
My experience in Other Field raised questions for me about the long-term outcomes of these earlier disparities. Could it be that those with funding in grad school then benefited from better mentoring? Did they get included on publications, recommended for the post-docs, and gain more opportunities? This then makes them more competitive for tenure when they go up... and the cycle would go on as people pursue promotion to full. For a profession that likes to think that we honor merit, these issues raise troubling questions, from my point of view.
I know all programs are not like my 1st grad; my second grad program put everyone in the same boat in terms of funding--we all had RA positions for the same number of hours and we were paid the same. And I feel that we all got reasonably similar mentoring support (okay, the boys didn't like feminists, but that is no surprise), though we were affected by the status of those who mentored us. Those with high-profile mentors had better access to resources than those who did not, but those differences seemed a little less aggravating to me. But nonetheless, when I look at the outcomes for the grads of that 2nd program, it turns out that we have progressed in a similar pattern.
I know you can't equalize every aspect of university life, but the closer you can get, the better for everyone in the long run. Someone has to address the inequities, and the earlier they start, the better we can all do.
When TR discussed the issue of privilege, I was reminded of my grad work in "Other Field." In that department, those with great GPAs, GREs, and references from the right undergraduate schools got better financial support than those towards the middle of the crowd in one or more of those areas. (As a girl with very strong GREs but a problematic transcript from state schools, I fell into the latter group.)
Strangely enough(!), the students who had fellowships (read: no labor attached) got through the program faster, did better in classes, and graduated more quickly than those who had TA's. And those with TA's did better than those of us doing other jobs, like work-study, residence life, and other low-pay labor. Some might argue that this clearly showed that they chose correctly--the cream rose to the top, and they funded the people who should have been funded.
But what would have happened if we had all had better funding? If we had all had to work a little, teach a little, and have time just getting funds without any strings attached?
As someone who worked, I always felt a little behind my "supported" colleagues. And none of the faculty would acknowledge how our time spent working impacted our capacity to produce and succeed. Instead, those of us who were doing low-paid labor got seen as less capable, got less mentoring, and never became the "teacher's pet." One of the most thoughtful and capable students I know who did not finish her doctoral degree worked almost full-time during her grad study. But everyone treated her like she should have been able to compete with our fully-funded counterparts, and they were reluctant to give her any financial assistance through the program. I wonder how her life would be different if she had been fully funded.
My experience in Other Field raised questions for me about the long-term outcomes of these earlier disparities. Could it be that those with funding in grad school then benefited from better mentoring? Did they get included on publications, recommended for the post-docs, and gain more opportunities? This then makes them more competitive for tenure when they go up... and the cycle would go on as people pursue promotion to full. For a profession that likes to think that we honor merit, these issues raise troubling questions, from my point of view.
I know all programs are not like my 1st grad; my second grad program put everyone in the same boat in terms of funding--we all had RA positions for the same number of hours and we were paid the same. And I feel that we all got reasonably similar mentoring support (okay, the boys didn't like feminists, but that is no surprise), though we were affected by the status of those who mentored us. Those with high-profile mentors had better access to resources than those who did not, but those differences seemed a little less aggravating to me. But nonetheless, when I look at the outcomes for the grads of that 2nd program, it turns out that we have progressed in a similar pattern.
I know you can't equalize every aspect of university life, but the closer you can get, the better for everyone in the long run. Someone has to address the inequities, and the earlier they start, the better we can all do.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Me and Thee and Thee and Me
Okay, okay, so students suck. At least, that is the banter on the web. Azpazia has on her site probably the craziest student phone message I have heard in some time. The discussion has led to a thorough trashing of student laziness, inability to study appropriately, poor preparation, etc. She writes about how most faculty cannot relate to students because:
After all, the majority of us are total nerds who decided to stay in school forever. We either already knew what sort of work was required of us, or some of us are just plain gifted.
I don't know if I am gifted or not, but I can tell you that I can empathize with my lazy, flawed students in a way that many of my colleagues don't. I am on the same page as Melanie Mock, who wrote a recent column in the Chronicle. She argues that we need to remember who we were, back when we were lazy, flawed students.
School was easy for me until 8th grade Algebra kicked my ass. The problem, I came to realize, was not that I could not "get" math. Actually, I pick up mathematical concepts quickly. My problem was that I had never really done homework before...not the kind of homework that took time, energy, and focus. And this was a new challenge. I eventually pulled that one out, but I learned a valuable lesson.
I learned another lesson early in college, after I failed courses I hated and excelled in courses I liked. My transcript looked like a lovely field full of F-pocked landmines: A, F, A, F, A, F. After a while, I realized that if I wanted to do well, I had to apply myself even when I hated the class, the teacher, or the subject. I later learned that if I wanted to do even better, I should go to classes regularly. If I showed up AND did the homework, the results were incredible! It only took me my 5 years of undergrad to get that.
Later, I also learned how NOT to get de-registered every semester, how to actually visit someone during office hours (and how much the instructors liked it!), and how to work with other students in class to divide up readings and study together. Unfortunately, these later lessons came in grad school. So, how can I be pissed that my students, most of them between 18-22, don't know these things yet?
I did not face some of the stupid decisions, barriers, or challenges my students face. I was not a party girl, I didn't date much, and I did not join a sorority or become a "little sister " (I never did get the point of that particular brand of self-negating, 2nd-rate groupthink--at least sorority sisters have their own independent club). But I did have to battle depression, homesickness, and eventually coming out in a college setting. And my academic career was further complicated by inherited familial habits of lateness, passive-aggressive tendencies, and the worst memory one can possibly imagine. I remember how all of these things made it harder to study, to feel confident, and to succeed in and outside of the classroom.
So, when I advise students or talk to them in and outside of class, I try to help them along with some of these lessons. I tell them my own stories of failure and success and share some of the mechanisms and practices that I have found helpful. I am usually not mad or frustrated with students; I get it. I was them.
In one of my earliest classes as an instructor, my students constantly complained about how they would not do well on the quizzes, "even though they read the book." I would tell the students, after the first few weeks, to bring their books to class. I would then ask them to open to a page they had read and hold it up. We would then, together, look at the highlighting. If the page glowed, I said, they didn't understand the purpose of highlighting as a reading/studying technique. And we took about 15 minutes to share, as a class, what worked for us as students--how to get the most out of reading, what techniques were helpful in improving recall, etc. It was amazing what a difference that made. I truly believe that they do the best they can, but that our students need to learn how to study in a way that works for them.
I told a group last week that I don't want to hear one more faculty member in my field complain that, since we are not in the English department, they should not be responsible for "teaching students to write." I see helping students to write better as everyone's responsibility. What if each of us took or created teachable moments with students to address the life skills, academic skills, and other important lessons that we know because we learned them the hard way? And what if we spent our time reinforcing the life lessons when students learn them, instead of obsessing about why students have to learn them in our classes?
It doesn't mean we can't be hard-asses...It just means we feel a little less angry and more hopeful about it, as we look at those mirror-images of our own failings and hope that they are taking away some learning along with the consequences of their actions.
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Who am I and what am I doing here?
Well, I was just reading Dean Dad's recent post on the short tenure of Vice Presidents for Academic Affairs, known in my Uni world as Provosts. And I have just been thinking about the pluses and minuses of provost (and other central administration) positions myself...
I have long wondered at the phenomenon of new Presidents who get hired at a university and quickly "sweep the decks," replacing most of those people (Provosts and Deans) who work for them. I understand that Presidents or Chancellors need to trust their Provosts thoroughly, since they do so much of the heavy internal lifting. Yet, sometimes the changes seem quite reactionary.
At one school where I worked, the new President came in, spent less than a week with the new provost, and summarily fired her, giving her a day to clean out her office. And this woman was amazing! I know she had herself on the market, because the slashing and burning of academic administrators is a longstanding trend and she was very smart, but it seemed to me at the time that he didn't even give her a chance to prove they could work together. And I believe that the university lost a great administrator.
That lesson remained with me as I took my first academic administrative position. I am not unaware of my own strengths (smart, creative, willing to take initiative, hard-worker) and my weaknesses (quick to forcefully share my opinion, a little cynical about power and its expression, and an unrepentant feminist, which some can see as a weakness). I know that some people are turned off by my directness. Though I am still a tenure-track faculty member, my administrative job is at the pleasure of the Dean, and I am aware of tenuousness of my situation. Add to that that I was hired without tenure, and it can make a girl pretty nervous.
Shortly after my hire, my Dean announced that she was going to retire, and we were conducting a search for a new Dean. Cue the shark music from "Jaws"...
Actually, I was happy with the new Dean--her style is understated and she is a quietly forceful person with a good mind. I also was pleased to be asked by the new Dean to stay on in my administrative position. I was also cautious, because she didn't really know me yet. You never know how long the good will will last or how well we will get along. So, I have soldiered on with the varied administrative aspects of my job, and for the most part, all has gone well. I still don't feel like I know the Dean well, and I don't know how long I will stay in this level of position.
But when I look ahead to jobs up the administrative ladder, particularly jobs in central administration, I worry about the losing the stability that tenure would provide, recognizing the ease with which you can be fired, let go, convinced to move on, etc. And while I eventually think I might want to be a provost someday, I am content to work my way up slowly. And hopefully I can remember to learn a little more each day.
I have long wondered at the phenomenon of new Presidents who get hired at a university and quickly "sweep the decks," replacing most of those people (Provosts and Deans) who work for them. I understand that Presidents or Chancellors need to trust their Provosts thoroughly, since they do so much of the heavy internal lifting. Yet, sometimes the changes seem quite reactionary.
At one school where I worked, the new President came in, spent less than a week with the new provost, and summarily fired her, giving her a day to clean out her office. And this woman was amazing! I know she had herself on the market, because the slashing and burning of academic administrators is a longstanding trend and she was very smart, but it seemed to me at the time that he didn't even give her a chance to prove they could work together. And I believe that the university lost a great administrator.
That lesson remained with me as I took my first academic administrative position. I am not unaware of my own strengths (smart, creative, willing to take initiative, hard-worker) and my weaknesses (quick to forcefully share my opinion, a little cynical about power and its expression, and an unrepentant feminist, which some can see as a weakness). I know that some people are turned off by my directness. Though I am still a tenure-track faculty member, my administrative job is at the pleasure of the Dean, and I am aware of tenuousness of my situation. Add to that that I was hired without tenure, and it can make a girl pretty nervous.
Shortly after my hire, my Dean announced that she was going to retire, and we were conducting a search for a new Dean. Cue the shark music from "Jaws"...
Actually, I was happy with the new Dean--her style is understated and she is a quietly forceful person with a good mind. I also was pleased to be asked by the new Dean to stay on in my administrative position. I was also cautious, because she didn't really know me yet. You never know how long the good will will last or how well we will get along. So, I have soldiered on with the varied administrative aspects of my job, and for the most part, all has gone well. I still don't feel like I know the Dean well, and I don't know how long I will stay in this level of position.
But when I look ahead to jobs up the administrative ladder, particularly jobs in central administration, I worry about the losing the stability that tenure would provide, recognizing the ease with which you can be fired, let go, convinced to move on, etc. And while I eventually think I might want to be a provost someday, I am content to work my way up slowly. And hopefully I can remember to learn a little more each day.
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Random thoughts on a Saturday
Well, I am busy ignoring applications to our program, doctoral exams, two different pieces that are past due, and too many other things to mention... so I figured I would blog a little.
- Great news on a new project! I am going to be taking the lead on a national study, something that will help extend the vitae and give me some big study experience. I am thrilled to expand my purview beyond local issues to something bigger.
- I read the coverage and listened to Obama's official declaration for the Presidential race in 2008. The police estimated between 15,000 and 17,000 people in attendance! The man is amazing and inspiring. I don't know what will happen with his candidacy, and whether he can best the Clinton machine, but it will be great to watch.
- The world seems to be so freaked out by queers:
deal with come on's all the time, and we don't melt when people look at us.)
4. And yet, most soldiers in the military are okay with gay men and lesbians, and a New York Congressman is chiding Condi Rice that the State Department should hire all of the queer linguists that the military threw out.
5. I don't know what Leonard Pitts is thinking... He is usually one of my favorite columnists, but Friday he wrote some claptrap, agreeing with Dobson, about how Mary Cheney's baby with her partner Heather might be used to argue that fathers don't matter. He quotes Dobson's bogus "scientific" studies of the need for fathers in children's lives. No one should give Dobson more press, especially Pitts. One might argue that it is the set-up for the tear down, but let me be the first to say, it does not work. I may have to dash off a short, aggravated note.
Okay, enough for now. Hope the weekend treats you well. I need some dinner!
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Cured!
Well, apparently it only takes a few weeks to cure homosexuality. Ted Haggard, the disgraced evangelical minister from Colorado Springs who bought crystal meth and had an ongoing affair with a male prostitute, met with four ministers for several weeks of intensive counseling. (Three years worth of counseling in three weeks, Haggard claims.) Now, one of the people overseeing his "treatment" is quoted in the NY Times affirming Haggard's "complete heterosexuality." They explain this by saying that his behavior, which they call "acting out," was limited to sexual activity with just one person. There were no other affairs in his past. Therefore, it is an aberration, not an indication of Haggard's sexual orientation. Haggard himself also sent word to his former congregants that he and his wife will be pursuing graduate degrees in psychology and moving somewhere in the Midwest, like Missouri or Iowa.
All of this raises several kinds of questions for me. What has this "counseling" done to Haggard's psyche? While I do not presume to know Haggard's sexual orientation, I am too familiar with the self-hatred that some brands of Christian belief can instill in gay and sexually questioning men to think that this behavior was his one-time "acting out." Even Haggard admitted, back when he was first busted, that he had long had "feelings" that were contrary to his religious beliefs.
His diagnosis, according to his "Christian counselors," is that he has a sexual addiction. It does seem like that could be a possibility, with the reckless sexual behavior that jeopardized his job and national reputation, although that disagnosis does not negate a gay sexual orientation. Yet, I think the "one-time" nature of the behavior actually works against the diagnosis of sexual addiction, which would require a pattern of behaviors. The DSM-IV says sexual addiction is:
Now, I am enough of a traditionalist to believe that married people should not have sex with people other than their partners without some kind of agreement. But I do understand and sympathize with the ways that sexual desire and self-hatred combine to make closeted gay people do stupid things. Therefore, I worry about Haggard's well-being, and I hope he gets real counseling from someone who has been trained.
And this leads me to another question--who has been ministering to Haggard's wife--in her grief, her betrayal, and her confusion? And what kind of training does this person have? Personally, I don't think the Haggards should study psychology...I think they should seek out professional counseling by licensed clinical social workers or psychologists.
As an academic, of course, I wonder what the psychology admissions people are gonna do with the Haggards' applications to study advanced psychology? Will the Haggards be applying to mainstream psych departments--you know, the ones that believe that sexual orientation is not "treatable," not immoral, and that it is, in fact, innate? Actually, I read on Slate that the Haggards are going to be taking courses "online" to pursue the degree. Yet another strike against online education.
What is next for the Haggards, once they have their graduate degrees? Retraining the rest of us homos to act heterosexual? Explaining why the gospel of Jesus Christ really spells out the remedy for homosexuality? I do believe that they may have something to offer the world--there are many people in need: living in poverty, struggling to overcome discrimination and oppression, coping with the difficulties of disease and illness. I hope they turn their social efforts in that direction, instead of using their faith to harm other people who are confused and questioning their sexual orientations.
I guess, in the end, I am glad the Haggards' faith is strong, because I fear they will need it.
All of this raises several kinds of questions for me. What has this "counseling" done to Haggard's psyche? While I do not presume to know Haggard's sexual orientation, I am too familiar with the self-hatred that some brands of Christian belief can instill in gay and sexually questioning men to think that this behavior was his one-time "acting out." Even Haggard admitted, back when he was first busted, that he had long had "feelings" that were contrary to his religious beliefs.
His diagnosis, according to his "Christian counselors," is that he has a sexual addiction. It does seem like that could be a possibility, with the reckless sexual behavior that jeopardized his job and national reputation, although that disagnosis does not negate a gay sexual orientation. Yet, I think the "one-time" nature of the behavior actually works against the diagnosis of sexual addiction, which would require a pattern of behaviors. The DSM-IV says sexual addiction is:
So, the disagnosis simply does not work for me.
Now, I am enough of a traditionalist to believe that married people should not have sex with people other than their partners without some kind of agreement. But I do understand and sympathize with the ways that sexual desire and self-hatred combine to make closeted gay people do stupid things. Therefore, I worry about Haggard's well-being, and I hope he gets real counseling from someone who has been trained.
And this leads me to another question--who has been ministering to Haggard's wife--in her grief, her betrayal, and her confusion? And what kind of training does this person have? Personally, I don't think the Haggards should study psychology...I think they should seek out professional counseling by licensed clinical social workers or psychologists.
As an academic, of course, I wonder what the psychology admissions people are gonna do with the Haggards' applications to study advanced psychology? Will the Haggards be applying to mainstream psych departments--you know, the ones that believe that sexual orientation is not "treatable," not immoral, and that it is, in fact, innate? Actually, I read on Slate that the Haggards are going to be taking courses "online" to pursue the degree. Yet another strike against online education.
What is next for the Haggards, once they have their graduate degrees? Retraining the rest of us homos to act heterosexual? Explaining why the gospel of Jesus Christ really spells out the remedy for homosexuality? I do believe that they may have something to offer the world--there are many people in need: living in poverty, struggling to overcome discrimination and oppression, coping with the difficulties of disease and illness. I hope they turn their social efforts in that direction, instead of using their faith to harm other people who are confused and questioning their sexual orientations.
I guess, in the end, I am glad the Haggards' faith is strong, because I fear they will need it.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Sadness on a good night
Well, I came home from my birthday celebration (which was great fun) to find out the bad news... I just can't believe Molly Ivins is dead.
I have been reading her essays and watching her on TV for so very long. She was the kind of writer whose wry wit and political wisdom made her a unique voice, appealing to a younger feminist like me. I had always hoped to meet her in person some day.
I had heard she was sick, but I didn't understand how grave her condition was. To lose Ann Richards and Molly Ivins so soon after one another is just sad and cosmically unfair. Two good, Southern, strong, outspoken, progressive women...gone. As an adopted daughter of the South, and a longtime lover of strong Southern women, I am deeply saddened by these losses. We are better for having had their challenging voices, certainly, but their losses leave a deafening silence.
I have been reading her essays and watching her on TV for so very long. She was the kind of writer whose wry wit and political wisdom made her a unique voice, appealing to a younger feminist like me. I had always hoped to meet her in person some day.
I had heard she was sick, but I didn't understand how grave her condition was. To lose Ann Richards and Molly Ivins so soon after one another is just sad and cosmically unfair. Two good, Southern, strong, outspoken, progressive women...gone. As an adopted daughter of the South, and a longtime lover of strong Southern women, I am deeply saddened by these losses. We are better for having had their challenging voices, certainly, but their losses leave a deafening silence.
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