Campus Equity Week? Let's Have Campus Equity Year . . .

Or century - how about that?

This week - October 28-November 2 is designated Campus Equity Week. The organizations behind this event ask us to wear red or scarlet on Wednesday, October 30. The Clarion University Faces of Retrenchment and other groups within the PASSHE system are asking us to wear black all week to mourn the loss of faculty and programs.

I can do those things. I can also wear pink and buy yogurt with a pink ribbon, but it doesn't stop breast cancer. In fact, I'm so tired of being urged to greater awareness of breast cancer I want to scream.

But the cancer eating academia is not as famous. There are no Races for the Cure of adjunctivitis. So wearing black all week - black with scarlet accents or vice versa on Wednesday - isn't nearly as annoying. But while the awareness of breast cancer is so pervasive that everyone immediately knows why even NFL players are wearing pink in October, I doubt very much that anyone will understand the symbolism of my wardrobe this week - even on my campus.

I will say that the life and death of Margaret Mary Vojtko has increased awareness phenomenally. But phenomenally is not nearly enough.

And awareness is not nearly enough. Let us Race for the Cure for Adjunctivitis and Other Academic Cancers.

Who's Got the Adjunct Blues?

According to a great song (and thanks to Matthew Ussia), we all do - professors, teachers, parents . . .  the only stakeholders (don't you just love how I've learned educational jargon?) not mentioned in the song are the administrators.

And that's because they're not blue at all. They're laughing all the way to the bank.

For now. But when we claim to be following the business model for education, it's a very specific business model based on short-term profit. So dedicating the budget to Taj Mahal*-style dorms makes sense - it brings in more customers, and they pay more for the privilege of living in the lap of luxury. Dedicating the budget to top-heavy administration makes sense, because, duh, it's the heavy administrators at the top who are setting the budget.

But dedicating the budget to education? To teachers, updated classrooms, better libraries? How would that appeal to the customer - the customer who is, by the way, an 18 year old. And, as every business person knows, the customer - at any age - is always right.

Here's a library story for any doubters out there: At a public university near and dear to my heart, the library steps were crumbling. Seems there was a spring or other source of water under them determined to bring them down. Did the university replace the sensible steps with new sensible steps, after solving the water problem? They did not. They constructed an elaborate marble staircase with the library name engraved on the wall.

Inside, the librarians were thinking, Really? When we keep asking for more books and data bases?

So when the full-time professors are gone; when the contents of the library are gone, what's left? Nothing. Colleges and universities will be just one more set of boarded up big box stores.



*And, yes, I know the Taj Mahal is a mausoleum. Wonder how many of the college students living in those dorms knows that.

Broken Computer Charger Changes Everything

Two weeks ago, I wrote about my actual, real, true workload - the work I and other faculty do outside of the classroom. This week, a music professor from Allegheny College wrote a similar story in response to the great state of Pennsylvania's attack on the state university system. He also debunks the myth of the overpaid, underworked teacher - you can read it here.

Yesterday morning, the absolute truth of both of our essays hit home. When I woke up, I discovered that my laptop computer had not charged. It would not charge. It would not come on when it was plugged in.

I called Apple and they are sending me a new adapter, which should come tomorrow or Friday.

When I went home for dinner (before returning to school for rehearsal of the play I'm directing), I thought I'd do a little work, as I often do over dinner.

Oops. No computer.

This morning, over breakfast, I checked my school email on my phone.

I'm writing this during my office hours and realizing I'll probably have to stay in my office over the dinner hour because, again, no computer at home.

And out of my six-figure income (ha! not quite half that . . .), I pay for my computer, my internet service, my phone, and my phone service. And I could not do my job without those things.

Or without working over meals at home.

I Must Have Done Something Right!

Apparently this blog has stepped on some overly sensitive toes. So I’ll just say this: if I am making you angry about the labor conditions in higher education, good. Keep reading. If I am making you angry because I am exposing labor conditions that you would rather have hidden, feel free to never read it again. Or better yet – examine your own conscience.

My goal is to bring the conditions for contingent faculty to light in the larger world outside the academy. If it raises questions and tempers within the academy, that’s fine by me.

Many of my friends in contingent positions have told me they are afraid to share my blog or comment on it because they teach at the will of their administrations. I am proud that my department chair is supporting my work on their behalf.

And as a side note – I've never burned any bridges. I have good friends everywhere I have ever taught. Friends who keep in touch with me . . . This has turned out to be a very good policy.

The Complicated Lives of Students in 2013

I received my undergraduate degree - a BA in English literature - in May of 1976. I was not a brilliant student. Duquesne University was too big and overwhelming for me. I was probably a student who would have benefitted from a year off between high school and college. I just wasn't ready.

I came from a low-income family. My father, a college graduate, had died when I was 15, and my experiences were more like those of first-generation college students. I had a horrible bout of depression my junior year, which caused me to get fired from my work study job - ironically, in the campus office that provided counseling.

But in spite of all that, I had a much simpler and easier time in college than my students do.

Because I encourage personal writing in my composition courses and I teach memoir writing, I probably know more about my students than most of my colleagues. I know which one was raped at 12, which one was beaten and locked in a closet by her father, which one's father came out as gay and left his family of six children and a bewildered wife.

My students are mostly first-generation college students. They are either very rural West Virginians or very urban inner-city athletes. The are from low socio-economic families and come unprepared from underperforming K-12 systems.

They are frequently from one parent homes, or raised by their grandparents. There is alcoholism, drug addiction, and jail in their backgrounds.

These are the students who deserve the best teachers, the most dedicated and knowledgable. They need programs like music and foreign language and ancient philosophies - the courses most frequently cut by public colleges and universities but remain a source of pride in elite universities.

Our approach to education at all levels is just wrong. Like corporations and individuals, for colleges, the rich get rich and the poor get poorer. And there's nothing surer than this: The current system will increase the ever-increasing divide between rich and poor and head us for destruction or revolution.

Or both.

Once Upon a Time in Adjunctland

When I was an adjunct, I was desperately seeking full-time employment. One job I applied for required a reference from a current employer. I had three to pick from, and I thought I had chosen the one who would be most supportive.

And, in a way, I had. He wrote a wildly enthusiastic recommendation letter.

And then he took away the two classes he had scheduled for me to teach in the fall.

In his defense, he wasn't being vindictive. He sincerely believed, as he explained to me, that I would get the job since he couldn't imagine anyone better qualified.

What he was suffering from was insufficient imagination. I didn't even get an interview.

This is why full-time, tenured and tenure-track faculty need to be aware of the plight of the adjunct. Because there had not been an opening in his department for years (hello, we have adjuncts. Who needs an opening?), he didn't have any idea about the intense competition for every job out there. He didn't know how tenuous my grasp on my mortgage was. He probably didn't know I didn't have health insurance.

I was able to scrounge other courses at other colleges - fortunately, he had cut me from the schedule early. If I hadn't, I would have gone back to retail . . .

If I had, maybe you'd be reading a fashion blog right now instead of this one . . .

Summers Off and Other Myths

It happened again. Yesterday a student said something about how lucky teachers are to get summers off. Also, he noted, I don't have a class on Friday afternoon.

Teachers everywhere are tired of hearing about how little they work. Six hour school days, summers off, a few weeks at Christmas . . .  And, yes, thank you, I do presume to speak for teachers everywhere.

College professors are rumored to have it even easier. They have fewer students, fewer classes, and the Christmas break is longer.

Here's my reality - and I have a much lighter teaching load than I did back in my for-profit education days. And certainly much lighter than the average adjunct.

This semester, I'm teaching five courses, although our typical load is four courses per semester. Of those five courses, only two are separate sections of the same course, which means I prepare for four different classes every week.

I serve on three committees (all of which are meeting this week). I am the secretary for one of them.

I am required to hold office hours 10 hours per week.

Because I teach writing, I read and comment on a lot of papers. A lot. I usually take them home over the weekend.

I'm directing the student play - six hours in auditions this week, and weeks of rehearsal coming up.

I'm going to emcee the open mike poetry reading next Wednesday.

I'm required to perform community service. Last summer, I spent 20 hours reading with elementary school children.

I wrote two conference proposals this week, and am working on an article to submit for publication. I still struggle to find time for my own personal research and creative writing - which, technically, is what we're supposed to be doing over the summer.

I go to college events - football games, art gallery openings, concerts.

I am not complaining about any of this. It's my job. It's my career. I chose it, and I came in with my eyes wide open. I love every minute. Well, almost every minute. Sometimes on the 53rd paper out of 60 on a Sunday afternoon I get a little bit cranky (Students: that might explain some of my comments.)

But the idea that teachers only work when they're in the class is absurd. No one believes that lawyers only work when they're in court or surgeons only work when they're in the operating room.

So, please - let us stop attacking the profession of teaching. In fact, let us begin to honor and respect it once again.

Please?

Brian O'Neill Nails It - As Usual . . .

Pittsburgh Post-Gazette columnist Brian O'Neill has weighed in on the case of Duquesne University adjunct, Professor Margaret Mary Vojtko. And, yes, I am calling her Professor (not adjunct, not visiting, not instructor) on purpose, because that is the title she deserved.

In it, O'Neill does some disturbing math. Read his column (brilliant as always) here.

In case you don't want to go to the link, O'Neill writes this: "Money charged to students covers 108 percent of instructional costs. The overflow goes to university research, public service and overhead. That would be where dwindling state budget money devoted to universities goes, too -- not to instruction. Thus college costs have soared even as more instruction comes from part-time professors who squeeze in classes with their real jobs. Public universities have done this largely because state appropriations have shrunk. In Pennsylvania, state appropriations cover only 18 percent of university core revenue. Only Colorado and Vermont offer a lower percentage."

So thank you, Brian. This is exactly where I was planning to go next. Duquesne University, a private school where undergraduate tuition ranges from $29,000 to $34,000 a year, chooses to exploit its workers, it's wrong. It's evil. But it's the free market economy - they do because they can. (I'm not excusing them from the Catholic commitment to labor issues. Apparently they have done that themselves.)

But when public education does the same, it's unspeakable. I was blessed to get my PhD from Indiana University of Pennsylvania paying in-state tuition - a fraction of what my out-of-state classmates paid. But I spent my whole life paying Pennsylvania state taxes. I finally got something for it (other than the occasionally paved pot hole). I pay my state taxes, in part, hoping to allow others get the education they need to succeed in the world.

When O'Neill says "overhead," a lot of that money is administrative salaries. The teachers in the trenches are suffering while presidents and football coaches are getting rich. This is what the defunding of public colleges and universities is truly defunding: teaching. The heart and soul of the university. There is no move to cut administrative salaries. And, strangely, no move to cut governors' salaries.

One of O'Neill's sources refers to "educational consumers." As problematic as that term is, if you are, in fact, an "educational consumer" - a student or parent of a student - step up. Demand teachers who are treated with respect, health insurance, and a living wage.

And the Bigger Problem

The use and abuse of contingent labor in academia didn't just happen; it is, perhaps, a symptom rather than the disease itself. Higher education is under attack from all sides, including from within. While Duquesne University is a private school, the labor conditions in public education are often worse. Steven Ward writes that this is no accident. While to an outsider, his words may sound paranoid, as someone who has worked in the field for 14 years, I have seen all of these things in play.

And don't get me started on the idea of free markets and college-as-business. Anyone who knows me knows how I suffered working in the for-profit education world. I watched from within as Goldman Sachs destroyed a formerly prestigious 90-year-old institution. The day its parent company took the stock public and Goldman Sachs bought the controlling interest, it was as if the lights had been suddenly turned off. Layoffs started and eventually included the librarians, the advisors, department chairs, faculty . . .  Even worse, we were constantly pressured to dumb down the curriculum and to pass failing students, while support services for our most needy students were being cut. After all, offering counseling services doesn't bring in profits, does it?

None of this is happening in a vacuum. There is an atmosphere of anti-intellectualism, a fear of elitism, and a glorification of the average in our culture today. George W. Bush is proud of his C+ average at Yale. Highly educated and highly intelligent people have been stereotyped as helpless geeks who can't manage their own lives. In television, think about Ross from "Friends," the Crane brothers of "Frazier," and everyone but Penny in "The Big Bang Theory."

The next group to be glorified? Wildly successful dropouts, including Steve Jobs and Bill Gates (who suddenly knows how to fix education - but that's a story for another day). Early in President Obama's first term, he visited a school and gave a fairly routine "stay in school" speech, and leaders in the Republican party demanded rebuttal time. To say what? Drop out? And that is exactly the message the conservative media landed on: no need to go to school! Certainly Glenn Beck is doing just fine with just a high school degree!

What this ignores, of course, is that in order to succeed without education beyond high school, you need to be incredibly driven or a genius. It helps to be both.

My students who are receiving that message are neither. They are first generation college students in a state that has slashed funding to higher education. Their fathers and grandfathers were farmers or coal miners. Now they believe that there is a future in oil and gas that doesn't require education. And the governor is just fine with that.

In the formerly great state of Pennsylvania, the governor has made no secret of his agenda to destroy public education, starting with preschool and not stopping until the PhD programs are gone.

Combine these state efforts with the high interest on student loans and dwindling resources such as Pell Grants. Tuition goes up, financial aid sources dry up, and students fear (and rightly so) living the rest of their lives under crushing student loan debt. What happens then? Higher education, once considered a great equalizer, the gateway to opportunity for all Americans, will revert to its roots: a place for rich white guys to revel in their privilege.

Sad.

The Big Picture

My high school driver's ed teacher, Mr. Raso, was known for his sayings. One of my favorites was "Always get the big picture."

So as the public outrage over the conditions of Professor Margaret Mary Vojtko's life and death fades and focusses on other issues (like the government shutdown - and rightly so), I hope we can allow her to rest in peace while still moving forward on the important work of improving working conditions in academia.

Many years ago, during my seven years as an adjunct, I was railing at my sister about the injustice of it all - the long hours in the car, the low pay, the lack of benefits, the lack of respect - she calmly said, Well, when you get a full-time job, you can work to help other adjuncts.

And here I am.

As I wrote before, my current institution uses few adjuncts. This may be a matter of convenience, as there are very few people with advanced degrees in rural central West Virginia who aren't already affiliated with the college. So the issue did not come to mind in the midst of settling into a new job and a new home.

But I'm ba-a-a-a-a-ck.

This blog is a start, but it is just that. What next? Post advice, support, comments please . . .