Boundaries and other administrative metaphors

I have been re-reading Tina Gunsalus' "The College Administrator's Survival Guide,"(left) and one lesson stands out above all others: Maintain your boundaries. My beloved partner is an expert in boundary maintenance, and she has additional words of wisdom. Boundaries, she notes, are like the yellow dotted lines in the road; you usually follow them, but if you cross them for any reason, be very aware and intentional about it. There are reasons to cross the lines while driving: to avoid an accident, to pass a car, and so on. But just as you don't cross the double lines that demarcate an unsafe space in the road for passing, such as a blind curve, you don't blithely cross a boundary with a colleague or subordinate unless you have thought it through.

For example, what are the long-term consequences of sharing very personal information with a student? (Is there some education-related purpose for sharing? Would it be a problem if s/he shared the information with other students or faculty? Could this sharing set up a new relationships that would make others uncomfortable or jealous? Could it be seen by the student as a come on?) When would it be appropriate to hug someone who reports to you? (Suggestions include when someone s/he cares about has been hurt or died or when you are leaving the job. And always with the caveat that s/he seems comfortable and open to it.)

I am trying to live into my boundary keeping by not starting my job until I actually am getting paid. It isn't easy, and I am not quite keeping my boundaries firm. Even though my start date is still in the future, I have met with a couple colleagues, responded to work email, and started reviewing materials related to the program. That said, I am trying to keep it all to a minimum, while letting myself ease into the new job. I hope that doing a few minor tasks in the interim will help keep me from being completely overwhelmed when I arrive for my official first day.

Other great lessons from Tina include:

• taking time to think before you act (using lines like, "I have to do a little research on that before I can respond")
• being consistent and dependable (i.e., do what you are supposed to do)
• communicate with everyone (i.e., get back to people, even just to tell them that it will take longer to respond than expected)
• ask for help when you need it (i.e., the university lawyer is your friend)

None of these are earth-shattering revelations, but instead they act as good reminders to a beleaguered new administrator. I hope not to be beleaguered myself, but I can feel the impending weight of this new position. I am glad Tina can help me get my head in the game as I ready for kickoff.

The Professor's Pernicious Plan

Oh, yes, children, it is time for the truth. Gay professors have an agenda. The students can tell, no matter what the syllabi say--see the latest from the Journal of Applied Social Psychology.

As a lesbian professor, I have long had to address this issue with students. If I EVER mention LGBT issues once in a non-LGBT class, there are always one or two students who feel irritated by this mention. It it upsetting to their delicate sensibilities, I guess, to hear an LGBT example amongst the many heterosexual examples I use in class.

And all my students (and I) will tell you: I have an agenda for every class and for my overall academic work. Of course, the question is: What is this agenda?

Is it the infamous homosexual agenda of yore? As Betty Bowers explains, at 3:33 we plan to:

 Assume complete control of the U.S., state, and local governments (in addition to other nations' governments); destroy all healthy Christian marriages; recruit all children grades Kindergarten through 12 into your amoral, filthy lifestyle; secure complete control of the media, starting with sitcoms; molest innocent children; give AIDS to as many people as you can; host a pornographic "art" exhibit at your local art museum; and turn people away from Jesus, causing them to burn forever in Hell.

Talk about time-consuming! No wonder it is difficult for LGBT folks to get tenure. Who has the time, when trying to take over governments and effect wholesale cultural change!

Nah, I have been too focused on securing tenure and promotion, supporting first generation college students, running an academic program, and improving my students' thinking and writing. Oh, and occasionally reminding students that LGBT people exist in the world and deserve rights like everyone else.

When there's not much there there

I have been teaching for more than 15 years now, and I maintain my excitement for the classroom because I love seeing students learn and grow. My teaching this summer has been a fantastic experience, with some of the best students I have ever had the privilege to teach. Perhaps this love fest is due to my love of and interest in the topics; perhaps it is because the students really want to take these courses. That said, I have seen some amazing learning in the classes, with students evidencing reflection, critical thinking, and ideas for application of their learning that you hope for in every student.

This excellent experience has made me think about the flip side: when you just don't see much growth in students. I can take the blame for this lack of development sometimes, thinking that I haven't challenged the students adequately. Yet, there are also classes where I see growth among the majority of students and then other students, usually only one or two, for whom growth and development is just not happening.

For these students, I sometimes think it is an issue of age, developmental capacity, and/or just basic smarts. The first two, age and developmental stage, don't bother me so much, because I figure that perhaps later in life the lessons we learn will kick in. Helping students see beyond their own experiences is a challenge, and sometimes we need to have more diverse experiences before it kicks in. All of us have had a class that we recall, sometime later in life, when the lessons we were learning in a distant way finally make sense. Some classes with feminist content were like that for me: before I experienced real discrimination or power dynamics in an intimate relationship, the writings about these issues didn't really resonate for me. Later, I had a number of "aha!" moments, when I recognized these critiques actually helped me to better understand my own life and the world around me.

But the third category of student is a heartbreaker. Often, these students are nice enough, but, to paraphrase Ms. Stein, there just isn't any there there. It isn't that these students lack formal education; many of my best students come from weaker schools. Nor are all of these students young or inexperienced. What I see instead is an inability to think deeply about topics, to consider how theories apply to the world, and to really reflect on complexity. Those students are just plain depressing to me as a teacher, because I know that there is little I can do to help them really grow.

That said, my feelings about these students are probably not shared by these students themselves in any way other than their frustration over receiving lower grades in my courses. (They don't do well on concept integration and critique.) They usually feel pretty good about their more average grades and their performance in class. I always go back to a great quote from the movie "Bull Durham," when Annie notes, "The world is made for people who aren't cursed with self-awareness." Perhaps being dim and uncomplicated makes life a whole lot easier.

Making the move

The process of moving a household is crazy, so I won't focus on that, lest I start to cry or panic. Instead, I want to focus on moving on to the new job.

One strange thing about getting a job is moving into a new phase in your life. For example, I am having to force myself to stop looking at jobs. I have been looking at job ads for several years, trying to find something in the discipline or in central administration that fits my interests. I now have to take myself off the disciplinary website job notification list. When I read through the Chronicle (yes, I still like the hard copy), I have to flip quickly past the job ads to the essay on the last page. It is difficult to remember that I am "off the market" in my professional life.

Instead, I am going to a new position, and I imagine being there for several years. If I have any interaction at all with the job ads, it will be posting one for a faculty hire or keeping tabs on them for former doc students and friends who are on the market. (One of my favorite things is helping other people find the right job. I have been successful in helping several students and friends find good positions.)

Also, I am moving up the food chain in terms of my new administrative role. This new role will include a budget to manage, faculty and staff to lead and supervise, and many more decisions to make on a daily basis. It is a classic win-lose: I get to be creative, and I bear the burden of responsibility for successes and failures. I am excited and nervous about this new role, and I know that I truly will not understand the pressures and the benefits until I have had the position for a while.

I have been packing up my files and books at work, thinking about what to keep. Examples of departmental assessment plans and tools: keep. Committee notes related to my former job: toss. Presentations and articles about best practices in leadership: keep. Information from my own presentations so old that the suggested references are from the 1990s: toss. I am still not sure what to do with pictures of former students, copies of teaching evaluations from my current school, my tenure packet, etc. I am likely keeping them, probably until the next move or a future time when I don't smile when I see them.

As I pried the nameplate off the door, with my old administrative title underneath, I imagined the new nameplate with my new title. There is something magical about a new beginning: so much potential, so many possibilities. I am ready, I think, to move on.

The last hurrah: Summer teaching

I am partway through the summer teaching experience, and I have been reflecting on the pros and cons of teaching summer school classes while preparing to leave the job and the state. Here is a small list:

PRO: Less time to be sad, as free time is spent preparing for and teaching class

CON: Less time to pack and prepare the house for the move

PRO: MONEY!!!

CON: Summer school never really pays enough, as it  is only a percentage of my regular salary. But money is money.

PRO: Spending time with students who are interested in the course topic and using our extensive time together to quickly build a sense of community.

CON: Grading. 'Nuff said.

PRO: Evenings and most weekends are mine.

CON: Getting up early in the morning in the summer is just lame.

PRO: Parking is easy on campus in the summer, as most students and faculty are gone. 

CON: They don't have the air conditioning turned to a reasonable level, and my classrooms are terribly warm during the high heat outside. It is difficult to be fun, smart, and engaging when your clothes are sticking to your body, and the students are struggling to keep their sweaty faces from falling down on their desks.

PRO: Hanging out and chatting with staff members who are not quite as busy as during the school year and who are happy for some (faculty) company.

CON: Never seeing other faculty on campus and feeling like the only one who is working in the summer.


PRO: Being energized by great discussions and learning by students.

CON: Being physically, psychically, and emotionally wiped out as we leave to drive across country and get ready for the new job. 100+ hours of teaching in one month--all of it in multi-day, long-ass stints--is sure to take a serious toll.

I am hopeful that the 2 weeks I have between when I arrive in my new town and when I start the new job will be restorative enough that I can hit the ground running (as opposed to crawling). I will try to make sure I do positive things in the new place, like get a massage and a pedicure, and perhaps spend a little time reading books on the Kindle. I am planning to adopt a strict, no work plan for that time, as well.

So, just a few more weeks of teaching, and then we make the big move!

Oh, to be out and renting

Having been a longtime homeowner, I have forgotten what it is like to rent a place to live. After visiting our new city seeking rental housing, I am remembering what it is like to be out lesbians in search of rental housing.

Now, we are a good rental risk. I have a very good job with a solid salary. My partner and I own a home and have excellent credit histories. We are both grown-ass women who are responsible, relatively quiet people who will treat a rental home like our own.

We are also pretty obviously lesbian. Even if you couldn't tell by looking at us, there is this little matter of relocating (across the country) for my new job. But still, some people don't get it. So, each and every landlord will either figure it out or we will have to come out. And, in this state, s/he has the right to tell us that s/he will not rent to us. That is a scary and somewhat depressing space to enter.

I always go into public spaces as if everything will be fine. The gf assumes discrimination is more likely than not to occur, though she also knows that people make business decisions that may not be aligned with their prejudices. She is often correct about the discrimination and reactions we face, but I cannot deviate from my more positive and hopeful approach, which works best for me.

On our trip, we saw a condo being rented by a very friendly man. The condo meets all of our requirements, it has a fantabulous view, and it is one hell of a bargain. We gave all the hints we could about our worthiness as renters: I mentioned my faculty status and being an alumnae of his preferred school; the gf noted that we could write a check for the deposit/1st month rent today and that she has local roots. He was nice to us, even as he told us about the very conservative church he attends.

When we went back to measure the rooms and ask some follow-up questions, he seemed more nervous and asked if we are related. He noted that we look like sisters. Now, we look NOTHING alike, but this kind of comment is commonplace for lesbians, especially those of us in longtime relationships. Our familiarity with one another--the sense of our family--is clearly identified, even if people cannot tell what the situation is. We said that we weren't sisters, but didn't come out in the moment.This conversation reminded me of this great book, pictured below, that gets at this experience.

Lesbian couples, traveling together, are often asked by men, "Are you girls traveling alone?" As if the two women couldn't be a couple. The book is twenty years old; one would hope that it is outdated, but it seems still strangely relevant.

We offered the condo owner to sign a lease and write the check during our second visit, but he declined, saying he would get back to us. Before we left, though, the gf went back in the condo and came out to him more directly. It seemed like the honorable thing to do, though we think it spelled the death knell for our renting the place. (He called and told us that he was renting to someone else.) Sigh.

At another apartment complex, they explained that the gf and I had to fill out separate applications, even though married couples filled out the same application. The gf was so irritated that her application was illegible.

The best experiences we had was at a home being rented by a lesbian couple and a home being rented by a young, straight couple. The wife in the straight couple was our primary contact there, and she seemed very laid back and accepting of our relationship. The lesbian couple wound up chilling in the living room with us for a few minutes, hanging out, sharing stories, and learning about one another. Perhaps the best part of those visits was just feeling comfortable and accepted. Though we don't plan to rent either of those houses, we hope to hang out with them (or people like them) once we move.

The rental home search made me even more aware of the class privilege the gf and I have as people who can purchase our own house. We don't have to worry about pleasing anyone to buy a home. But without protection from discrimination, any LGBT renter can be refused a rental. What will we do about that?

Oh, to be out, queer, and Jewish

Just a quick note to tell you about a great resource: a poster series of LGBT Heroes available to you right now! The first set of posters and web info, part of the "Here I am" project from Keshet, include Harvey Milk, Leslea Newman, and Kate Bornstein. Who can help but want that collection for your walls?

The website also include biographical info and lots of pictures of the subjects throughout their lives. Bornstein is almost iconic these days, thanks to the publication of Gender Outlaw and Kate's many appearances at campuses around the country. Newman is one of my favorite writers. She is known best for Heather has two mommies and Letters to Harvey Milk.

And speaking of Harvey Milk, it makes me feel good just to see his smiling face. He was a voice for hope and openness, for reaching across and bridging our differences, and working for change in our communities.

I went online and suggested some more Jewish LGBT leaders for remembrance, including Harvey Fierstein, Frank Kameny, Roberta Achtenberg, and Leslie Feinberg. Feel free to go online and suggest some more. There are so many more Jewish queers than we can possibly recognize with these posters.