Awareness? Raised. Action? Not So Much.

Since I last wrote, at least half a dozen new adjunct blogs have begun. Several "I Quit Academe" essays have surfaced, and one "Academe Quit Me" essay roused some interest.

It's beginning to feel a lot like October.

Not the weather. It's a seasonal 32 degrees and lightly snowy here in Central West Virginia.

But in the conflict between awareness and action.

I know I've mentioned this before. October, as we all know, is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Pink ribbons appear on products. NFL players wear fuschia shoes and gloves. The City of Pittsburgh dyes the water in the fountains pink.

But seriously. You'd have to have been raised by wolves, born in a barn, AND living in a remote cave not to be aware of breast cancer. Awareness is no longer the issue. Why can't we put all the money that goes into pinkness into research for prevention and cures? (And, yes, I know - some of the profits from these programs does go into those things, as well as providing mammograms for uninsured women. But still.)

Besides, I don't like pink much. When my sister and I were young, our mother often bought us almost-matching outfits - hers was blue; mine was pink. I've had enough.

The public conversation about working conditions for college and university faculty is feeling very pink to me now. There is no one with a pulse over 20 in academia who is not now aware of the problem. The road we are on - the road to all part-time faculty with low wages and no benefits - will destroy higher education in America sooner rather than later.

So what now? Do those of us actively working to improve working conditions in academia need to adopt a color and campaign for a month? I think blue would be appropriate . . .and how about February - we don't want people to be aware for too long.

Or is it time for those who have been lying low - administrators who believe that by hiring several adjuncts they're actually increasing the number of available jobs; tenured faculty near enough to retirement that they don't care; parents who believe that part-time faculty somehow means lower tuition*; students who don't know if their faculty members are full-time or not, simply because most adjuncts show the same dedication to their learning as tenured or tenure-track faculty members do; politicians; voters - is it time for them to add their voices and demand that some action be taken?

Yes.

*For the record, there is a definite correlation between increasing tuitions and increasing pat-time and contingent faculty. Not a causation perhaps, but definitely a correlation. Hmmmm . . ..

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.

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.

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.