I am truly fortunate to teach at a school that has the whole week off for Thanksgiving. Well, technically, it's not just for Thanksgiving - deer season starts today in West Virginia, and the administration is smart enough to know that the halls would be empty and the classrooms would echo if they tried to open.
And so, I am housecleaning. The good old fashioned kind, where you move all the furniture, and wash the bathroom rugs and shower curtains. I've been doing the kind that my mother called "a lick and a promise," but rarely get back to the promise part.
So far, I've done the living room, dining room, and den. Still to go: kitchen and baths, bedrooms. Make the guest bed for my sister, who will arrive this evening. Clean up after the sick dog (ok, that has to be next.)
And: go in to the office to follow up on a few details for the publication my creative nonfiction class is putting out. Do work on dissertation research I'm participating in. Annotate an entry for a famous publisher of annotated bibliographies in the field.
And maybe, just maybe, get back to my own research project.
So if you don't hear from me in the meantime (and even if you do), have a wonderful Thanksgiving, everyone.
Monday, November 25, 2013
Thursday, November 21, 2013
Activism to Apathy to . . .
In 1970, Duquesne University was in the midst of a financial disaster and felt forced to decide between closing the doors and raising tuition significantly. Then president Father McAnulty* met with student leaders and another solution was found: The Third Alternative to Save Duquesne.
Students put together an amazing fund raising program, including door-to-door solicitation, which raised almost $600,000.
When I was a high school junior searching for a college in 1971, I knew the story well and put Duquesne on my list. I was accepted and offered a generous financial aid package.
By the time I arrived on campus in August of 1972, there were no lingering signs of student involvement, or even concern. Although the program was still in progress to some degree, I never heard a word of it on campus, and the students I met knew nothing of it - and cared even less. Duquesne had become a party school - at least one mixer on campus every weekend: all the beer you could drink for a dollar. No carding.
Saturday nights, students crawled up the hill from the bar of choice, Frank and Wally's (famous for gravy-covered fries), to go to 2 a.m. mass at the university chapel.
So I was interested to read this article about student support for adjuncts from USA Today. So far, no word from the Duquesne students, but I will say this.
In my seven years as an adjunct, I always told my students exactly what that meant. It was the reason I had to meet them for conferences in the cafeteria; it was the reason I was only on that campus one day a week; it was the reason I sometimes returned papers late. Seven courses, three schools, five locations. I'm running as fast as I can.
I had a student at one college who had five courses - and five adjuncts. And this a private university with a hefty tuition rate.
So, yes, students: get involved. Save the professoriate the way you saved Duquesne.
And now - who will save Duquesne?
*I want to point out that Father McAnulty was a great leader. He knew my name and the names of most of my classmates. He regularly visited all the offices on campus and knew his staff. I was not happy at Duquesne, and that is partly because it was too big for me - I graduated in a class of 241, still the largest class to ever graduate from my high school. Even so, it was not the school that The Third Alternative had led me to expect.
Students put together an amazing fund raising program, including door-to-door solicitation, which raised almost $600,000.
When I was a high school junior searching for a college in 1971, I knew the story well and put Duquesne on my list. I was accepted and offered a generous financial aid package.
By the time I arrived on campus in August of 1972, there were no lingering signs of student involvement, or even concern. Although the program was still in progress to some degree, I never heard a word of it on campus, and the students I met knew nothing of it - and cared even less. Duquesne had become a party school - at least one mixer on campus every weekend: all the beer you could drink for a dollar. No carding.
Saturday nights, students crawled up the hill from the bar of choice, Frank and Wally's (famous for gravy-covered fries), to go to 2 a.m. mass at the university chapel.
So I was interested to read this article about student support for adjuncts from USA Today. So far, no word from the Duquesne students, but I will say this.
In my seven years as an adjunct, I always told my students exactly what that meant. It was the reason I had to meet them for conferences in the cafeteria; it was the reason I was only on that campus one day a week; it was the reason I sometimes returned papers late. Seven courses, three schools, five locations. I'm running as fast as I can.
I had a student at one college who had five courses - and five adjuncts. And this a private university with a hefty tuition rate.
So, yes, students: get involved. Save the professoriate the way you saved Duquesne.
And now - who will save Duquesne?
*I want to point out that Father McAnulty was a great leader. He knew my name and the names of most of my classmates. He regularly visited all the offices on campus and knew his staff. I was not happy at Duquesne, and that is partly because it was too big for me - I graduated in a class of 241, still the largest class to ever graduate from my high school. Even so, it was not the school that The Third Alternative had led me to expect.
Friday, November 8, 2013
Another Great Teacher the Field Could Lose . . .
Today I got an email from a wonderful friend who is an adjunct at a small Catholic university - not Duquesne, for those of you who have been following . . .
She had received an email from her dean asking all the faculty to consider how the addition of more adjunct faculty could benefit the university.
Ha. Why send that to the adjuncts?
So she explained her work load to me (and plans to explain it to the dean . . .) this way:
"One example is what I experienced Fall 2012. I asked for, and taught, 3 sections of College Composition. I had over 75 students, with some sections overenrolled. I taught 9 hours a week for 14 weeks, prepared for each class, spent hours answering student emails, and held office hours. Then on top of that, I graded hundreds of pages of written homework, 375 papers, and 75 portfolios. All for about $7500, a fraction of what the university pays full timers. I get no benefits, no health insurance, and no pension. I must walk sometimes four blocks in all kinds of weather hauling textbooks and papers to avoid paying parking fees."
I warned her about sending the letter. She could end up as a greeter at Walmart. And yet - she's my friend. She's like me: strong, outspoken, with a great sense of reckless abandon (thanks to another friend who paid me that compliment today!). She will speak truth to power.
If we all did - if all levels of faculty from fully tenured to barely hanging on - told the truth to the people who control our destinies, what would happen? Classes for one, or two, or ten adjuncts might disappear; tenure decisions could be delayed or go wrong; early retirement might be encouraged. But ultimately, administration will need someone to teach (I hope!). If we stick together to demand decent working conditions, shouldn't that do something?
I'm a left-over hippie, and I remember the slogan of the 1960s: Suppose they gave a war and nobody came. Well. Suppose they had a university and nobody taught.
And that will be the outcome no matter what. Already people who are outspoken about the state of academic labor are being criticized for pursuing advanced degrees in the first place - if we're so smart, we should have known there would be no jobs.
Soon, young people will listen. They will be smart. They will not become teachers.
Then what?
She had received an email from her dean asking all the faculty to consider how the addition of more adjunct faculty could benefit the university.
Ha. Why send that to the adjuncts?
So she explained her work load to me (and plans to explain it to the dean . . .) this way:
"One example is what I experienced Fall 2012. I asked for, and taught, 3 sections of College Composition. I had over 75 students, with some sections overenrolled. I taught 9 hours a week for 14 weeks, prepared for each class, spent hours answering student emails, and held office hours. Then on top of that, I graded hundreds of pages of written homework, 375 papers, and 75 portfolios. All for about $7500, a fraction of what the university pays full timers. I get no benefits, no health insurance, and no pension. I must walk sometimes four blocks in all kinds of weather hauling textbooks and papers to avoid paying parking fees."
I warned her about sending the letter. She could end up as a greeter at Walmart. And yet - she's my friend. She's like me: strong, outspoken, with a great sense of reckless abandon (thanks to another friend who paid me that compliment today!). She will speak truth to power.
If we all did - if all levels of faculty from fully tenured to barely hanging on - told the truth to the people who control our destinies, what would happen? Classes for one, or two, or ten adjuncts might disappear; tenure decisions could be delayed or go wrong; early retirement might be encouraged. But ultimately, administration will need someone to teach (I hope!). If we stick together to demand decent working conditions, shouldn't that do something?
I'm a left-over hippie, and I remember the slogan of the 1960s: Suppose they gave a war and nobody came. Well. Suppose they had a university and nobody taught.
And that will be the outcome no matter what. Already people who are outspoken about the state of academic labor are being criticized for pursuing advanced degrees in the first place - if we're so smart, we should have known there would be no jobs.
Soon, young people will listen. They will be smart. They will not become teachers.
Then what?
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
Dog Bites Man
This week, the Association of Writers and Writing Programs (AWP) published its "Annual Report on the Academic Job Market"for creative writers. It reported just over 100 full-time, tenure-track jobs in creative writing. Yet over 4000 MFAs in creative writing are awarded every year. This is neither news nor new: the gap between creative writing degrees and creative writing jobs has been growing steadily, as my dissertation research showed.
In the report, Dinty Moore said, “I don’t think becoming an adjunct is the ladder you climb if you want a fulltime job with proper compensation.” Again, neither news nor new. Sadly, however, many of us got sucked into that path because we discovered that we love teaching. I am very much aware of how fortunate I am to have a tenure-track job teaching both composition and creative writing.
That said, I did not get my MFA planning to teach. I wanted to write. I wanted to write the Great American Novel. When that didn't happen I sought other options. Eventually I had the opportunity to teach - as an adjunct. Which led to my seven years teaching part-time for three institutions.
Which led me to pursue a PhD - also a risky move. When I had completed my course work, I got my first full-time job. It wasn't tenure track and there was no protection from non-renewal of the contract. When it wasn't renewed, I found another full-time job at an institution with no tenure. It quickly became apparent that there was no job security there - in my last two years there were so many layoffs that the empty hallways echoed.
And tenure is no protection from the massive layoffs happening in public education. Both Pennsylvania and West Virginia (my two home states) have cut funding so severely I believe we should cut the states' names from the public colleges and universities that are suffering.
For me, becoming an adjunct did allow me to get the full-time job (although I'm not so sure about the "proper compensation" part). I did not have a teaching assistantship in my master's program, so it gave me experience. It inspired me to pursue a teaching career. And, again, I got lucky. Very lucky.
I have friends being "retrenched" from the Pennsylvania state university system. I hope they have even better luck. Because education, experience, and ability are no longer enough.
In the report, Dinty Moore said, “I don’t think becoming an adjunct is the ladder you climb if you want a fulltime job with proper compensation.” Again, neither news nor new. Sadly, however, many of us got sucked into that path because we discovered that we love teaching. I am very much aware of how fortunate I am to have a tenure-track job teaching both composition and creative writing.
That said, I did not get my MFA planning to teach. I wanted to write. I wanted to write the Great American Novel. When that didn't happen I sought other options. Eventually I had the opportunity to teach - as an adjunct. Which led to my seven years teaching part-time for three institutions.
Which led me to pursue a PhD - also a risky move. When I had completed my course work, I got my first full-time job. It wasn't tenure track and there was no protection from non-renewal of the contract. When it wasn't renewed, I found another full-time job at an institution with no tenure. It quickly became apparent that there was no job security there - in my last two years there were so many layoffs that the empty hallways echoed.
And tenure is no protection from the massive layoffs happening in public education. Both Pennsylvania and West Virginia (my two home states) have cut funding so severely I believe we should cut the states' names from the public colleges and universities that are suffering.
For me, becoming an adjunct did allow me to get the full-time job (although I'm not so sure about the "proper compensation" part). I did not have a teaching assistantship in my master's program, so it gave me experience. It inspired me to pursue a teaching career. And, again, I got lucky. Very lucky.
I have friends being "retrenched" from the Pennsylvania state university system. I hope they have even better luck. Because education, experience, and ability are no longer enough.
Friday, November 1, 2013
Ah, the Irony . . .
Real irony, not the Alanis Morissette kind.
Here it is, Campus Equity Week, an event that could have been created for the sole purpose of giving me material to write about, and I've been too busy to write!
Although - the reason I'm too busy is the very heart of this blog. As a new faculty member in the second year of the tenure track, I have to be busy. As I mentioned before, I serve on three committees, and I'm directing the student theater group in a play I wrote. (Reminds me of a tee shirt I saw once: "I can't . . . I have a rehearsal") I leave after classes today for a conference, at which I present a paper at 7:45 tonight. The paper is not yet finished.
So I'll leave you with this graphic, and hope to be back a little more regularly next week. Thanks for sticking with me - there have been 1100 views, which absolutely blows me away!
(Get the rest of the story at the AAUP site.)
Here it is, Campus Equity Week, an event that could have been created for the sole purpose of giving me material to write about, and I've been too busy to write!
Although - the reason I'm too busy is the very heart of this blog. As a new faculty member in the second year of the tenure track, I have to be busy. As I mentioned before, I serve on three committees, and I'm directing the student theater group in a play I wrote. (Reminds me of a tee shirt I saw once: "I can't . . . I have a rehearsal") I leave after classes today for a conference, at which I present a paper at 7:45 tonight. The paper is not yet finished.
So I'll leave you with this graphic, and hope to be back a little more regularly next week. Thanks for sticking with me - there have been 1100 views, which absolutely blows me away!
(Get the rest of the story at the AAUP site.)
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