I participated in a short-listing meeting yesterday for a part time post coming up at Naval City University. This is the first time I have witnessed, let alone been part of, this kind of thing, and, despite now being in an open-ended post, I found the whole process a painful experience. It was a reminder to me (as if I needed one!) of how many applications I sent before I got shortlisted for my job twelve months ago, and how lucky I am to have it.
So many highly qualified people (some much better qualified in terms of publications than I am) who could not be shortlisted because they didn't quite fit the detail of what the department was looking for, or because, whilst they had books /articles forthcoming, these were not yet in press whereas those shortlisted had items out already. Of course, this is quite right - the person hired has to 'fit the bill' in more ways than one, and research output matters, especially in the run up to REF.
The process has made me approach my research with renewed energy, if only to prove to myself that I deserve the job I have. I certainly didn't get it by any favouritism or favour (I didn't know anyone who worked here before I was offered the job, so I got it on the merits of my application and interview) but I still have to pinch myself sometimes when I remember the position I was in at this time last year - I'd almost given up hope of getting a salaried academic post, having not made it onto a shortlist for a job I had been doing for much less money for 3 years.
I am grateful that, somehow, I got on to the list of candidates for inteview for this job (it was this time last year I was on my way down to the interview) and that I managed to give a presentation and interview that convinced the School to employ me. It was the first permanent job for which I had been shortlisted, and I couldn't quite believe it when I was offered the job. (I think I actually said, "Really?" to the Head of School when he phoned me.) I must continue to work hard to make sure I don't let them down.
Showing posts with label academia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label academia. Show all posts
Thursday, 21 June 2012
Wednesday, 20 June 2012
Beautiful Beliefs (5)
I believe that...
My colleagues and I were obliged to attend a staff development event this week in order to prepare us for the challenges of the next academic year. In its wisdom, the university has decided that 2012-13 is the year to introduce a radical overhaul of the academic structure and curriculum, despite the upheaval and uncertainty coming our way as a result of the government’s raising of tuition fees for students. For those who are not aware of this, the amount a degree costs is not changing; what is changing is the proportion of that cost borne by the student themselves instead of government funding. Many students will not appreciate this subtle difference and will insist on ‘more for their money’ since they are paying more. This staff development event was to alert us to the changes coming and to tell us about other university developments alongside changes brought about by the new curriculum.
It was not a successful day from the perspective of most academic staff. We were told things we already knew, and we were not given the opportunity to ask questions regarding what we did not or to comment on management plans. It did little to raise staff morale after what has been a very difficult transitional year. I am new to the department this year, and the strain of the new curriculum is already taking a toll. I imagine that my colleagues who have been dealing with this for much longer than I have must feel terribly ground down.
Faculty management, throughout the day, told us that in the future we must listen to the students, ask for their feedback, respond to their feedback, help them set goals for the future, and – importantly – make sure they know that we care. What was shockingly poor about this address was that it implied that we were not already doing those things; that up to this point, we have not cared about our students, their degree or their circumstances. At no point did anyone say, ‘You’ve all done a great job this year. Keep it up!’.
No one came away from the day feeling motivated, appreciated or looking forward to the future or any more prepared than they were before this compulsory event. Many of my colleagues are looking for jobs elsewhere. But they wouldn’t be if they felt that they were heard, appreciated, supported in their academic endeavours. They (we) work very hard for the students, and to keep up with research despite a struggle for institutional support. A ‘well done’ or ‘keep it up’ or ‘thank you for all your efforts’ would have gone a very long way.
This is not a post to big up my own efforts though, and ‘hard working’ doesn’t only apply to academics! I miss the friendly and brilliant admin support that we had at my previous institution, and realise that whilst I never took this support entirely for granted, I didn't fully appreciate how much the undergrad secretaries did for tutors above and beyond what happens elsewhere. Here at Naval City University, the cleaners come into our offices to empty the bins and vacuum the floor. I appreciate that I no longer have to empty my own bin (office dustbins were neither supplied nor empied at the University in the City where the Castle is also a Prison) and that at least once a week my carpet is fluff-free.
However small or large the task, acknowledging others' efforts can make a big difference. Say thank you to your mum or dad or other loved ones (thank you to the Physio for making me dinner!); to the administrator, the cleaner, the bus driver, the waiter, the nurse, teacher, cashier, librarian, etc., etc., etc.
Most people who deserve acknowledgement do not go out of their way to seek it - they just get on with their tasks. That does not mean they shouldn’t get it.
This post is connected to Amy's Beautiful Belief's project.
It is easy to take hard working people for granted, but we shouldn’t!
My colleagues and I were obliged to attend a staff development event this week in order to prepare us for the challenges of the next academic year. In its wisdom, the university has decided that 2012-13 is the year to introduce a radical overhaul of the academic structure and curriculum, despite the upheaval and uncertainty coming our way as a result of the government’s raising of tuition fees for students. For those who are not aware of this, the amount a degree costs is not changing; what is changing is the proportion of that cost borne by the student themselves instead of government funding. Many students will not appreciate this subtle difference and will insist on ‘more for their money’ since they are paying more. This staff development event was to alert us to the changes coming and to tell us about other university developments alongside changes brought about by the new curriculum.
It was not a successful day from the perspective of most academic staff. We were told things we already knew, and we were not given the opportunity to ask questions regarding what we did not or to comment on management plans. It did little to raise staff morale after what has been a very difficult transitional year. I am new to the department this year, and the strain of the new curriculum is already taking a toll. I imagine that my colleagues who have been dealing with this for much longer than I have must feel terribly ground down.
Faculty management, throughout the day, told us that in the future we must listen to the students, ask for their feedback, respond to their feedback, help them set goals for the future, and – importantly – make sure they know that we care. What was shockingly poor about this address was that it implied that we were not already doing those things; that up to this point, we have not cared about our students, their degree or their circumstances. At no point did anyone say, ‘You’ve all done a great job this year. Keep it up!’.
No one came away from the day feeling motivated, appreciated or looking forward to the future or any more prepared than they were before this compulsory event. Many of my colleagues are looking for jobs elsewhere. But they wouldn’t be if they felt that they were heard, appreciated, supported in their academic endeavours. They (we) work very hard for the students, and to keep up with research despite a struggle for institutional support. A ‘well done’ or ‘keep it up’ or ‘thank you for all your efforts’ would have gone a very long way.
This is not a post to big up my own efforts though, and ‘hard working’ doesn’t only apply to academics! I miss the friendly and brilliant admin support that we had at my previous institution, and realise that whilst I never took this support entirely for granted, I didn't fully appreciate how much the undergrad secretaries did for tutors above and beyond what happens elsewhere. Here at Naval City University, the cleaners come into our offices to empty the bins and vacuum the floor. I appreciate that I no longer have to empty my own bin (office dustbins were neither supplied nor empied at the University in the City where the Castle is also a Prison) and that at least once a week my carpet is fluff-free.
However small or large the task, acknowledging others' efforts can make a big difference. Say thank you to your mum or dad or other loved ones (thank you to the Physio for making me dinner!); to the administrator, the cleaner, the bus driver, the waiter, the nurse, teacher, cashier, librarian, etc., etc., etc.
Most people who deserve acknowledgement do not go out of their way to seek it - they just get on with their tasks. That does not mean they shouldn’t get it.
This post is connected to Amy's Beautiful Belief's project.
Wednesday, 23 May 2012
Beautiful Beliefs (2)
I believe that...
Some time ago I wrote this post in relation to a student I was teaching in his first year. His enthusiasm and interest remained throughout his time at university, but he suffered from crippling anxiety when it came to assessments. He was given extensions to different deadlines because his anxiety about it not being good enough was so bad that it prevented him from finishing and submitting his work. He got through to the final year, and could not sit his exams or submit his dissertation. I was not supervising him, but have absolutely no doubt that it would have been an excellent piece of work. He was given the opportunity to defer these assessments. He contacted me after I’d left the University in the City where the Castle is also a Prison to ask if he could come to talk to me about one of the units as the exam came around again. I had to reply to tell him I was no longer in the city, but was sure one of the other early modernists would help him. I heard no more from him.
I have been away from this blog for a long time – half-scribbling posts that never got written – so when I came back I read over some of my older posts to remind me what I used to do, and came across that post about him. I emailed my friend, Very Efficient Undergrad Secretary, to ask how he was doing and if he had managed to submit his dissertation this year. She told me that he had decided to withdraw from university at Easter, before any of the assessments took place.
I was genuinely saddened by this news. He had so much potential as a Lit student, and I know he could have finished with a good 2.1 degree, if not a first class one. He was certainly intellectually capable of it. But his lack of self-belief meant that he left the university with no degree at all.
This sort of anxiety – that we are not good enough – is something that most of us suffer from at some point. I have talked about it before in relation to my teaching and marking and in relation to judging ourselves by others’ progress. I think the reason my PhD thesis was submitted at the last minute (literally – a friend had her car engine running to get me to student registry on time from across campus) was because I was reluctant to let it go, to send it out for examination and judgement because it might not be good enough. I am now struggling to turn that thesis into a monograph, not because it was found wanting at my VIVA (it was not), or just because I struggle to find the time (though I do) but because I am, underneath, anxious that it will not be good enough. A journal rejected a chapter of it as an article; will the peer reviewers of my book reject the whole thing?
I have a book contract with a reputable publisher, so the idea has already been deemed publishable, but I procrastinate and delay and try to hunt out any other text I could possibly look at to make sure there is nothing obviously missing from my work.
I will just have to get it done and send it off to them very soon, or I will miss the REF deadline and my new employer, who took a chance on my potential to publish and gave me a job, will not be pleased. But this anxiety I feel at letting them down, although I feel it, is not as strong as the anxiety I feel about sending my work out into the realms of academic criticism. So I delay, and the deadline gets closer and I know I will have to send off work I am not entirely happy with when I run out of time. I tell myself I work better under pressure, but really this is because I can no longer put it off.
I thought that if he had had the right kind of support and encouragement, that anxious student might have got all of his work submitted. I don’t know what sort of support he received beyond the deferral, but I am starting to think that whatever it was it wouldn’t have been enough. I think he’d rather withdraw than risk not meeting expectations (though whose expectations, I am not sure).
It’s tempting, isn’t it, to avoid putting our work ‘out there’. I could do that with this book, but it would be such a waste of my time, effort and energy to prevent myself from going forward because of this anxiety.
There can be many obstacles to overcome in the ‘world outside’. Let’s try hard not to be our own worst enemies.
This is post is connected to Amy Palko's Beautiful Beliefs writing circle.
We can be our own worst enemies.
Some time ago I wrote this post in relation to a student I was teaching in his first year. His enthusiasm and interest remained throughout his time at university, but he suffered from crippling anxiety when it came to assessments. He was given extensions to different deadlines because his anxiety about it not being good enough was so bad that it prevented him from finishing and submitting his work. He got through to the final year, and could not sit his exams or submit his dissertation. I was not supervising him, but have absolutely no doubt that it would have been an excellent piece of work. He was given the opportunity to defer these assessments. He contacted me after I’d left the University in the City where the Castle is also a Prison to ask if he could come to talk to me about one of the units as the exam came around again. I had to reply to tell him I was no longer in the city, but was sure one of the other early modernists would help him. I heard no more from him.
I have been away from this blog for a long time – half-scribbling posts that never got written – so when I came back I read over some of my older posts to remind me what I used to do, and came across that post about him. I emailed my friend, Very Efficient Undergrad Secretary, to ask how he was doing and if he had managed to submit his dissertation this year. She told me that he had decided to withdraw from university at Easter, before any of the assessments took place.
I was genuinely saddened by this news. He had so much potential as a Lit student, and I know he could have finished with a good 2.1 degree, if not a first class one. He was certainly intellectually capable of it. But his lack of self-belief meant that he left the university with no degree at all.
This sort of anxiety – that we are not good enough – is something that most of us suffer from at some point. I have talked about it before in relation to my teaching and marking and in relation to judging ourselves by others’ progress. I think the reason my PhD thesis was submitted at the last minute (literally – a friend had her car engine running to get me to student registry on time from across campus) was because I was reluctant to let it go, to send it out for examination and judgement because it might not be good enough. I am now struggling to turn that thesis into a monograph, not because it was found wanting at my VIVA (it was not), or just because I struggle to find the time (though I do) but because I am, underneath, anxious that it will not be good enough. A journal rejected a chapter of it as an article; will the peer reviewers of my book reject the whole thing?
I have a book contract with a reputable publisher, so the idea has already been deemed publishable, but I procrastinate and delay and try to hunt out any other text I could possibly look at to make sure there is nothing obviously missing from my work.
I will just have to get it done and send it off to them very soon, or I will miss the REF deadline and my new employer, who took a chance on my potential to publish and gave me a job, will not be pleased. But this anxiety I feel at letting them down, although I feel it, is not as strong as the anxiety I feel about sending my work out into the realms of academic criticism. So I delay, and the deadline gets closer and I know I will have to send off work I am not entirely happy with when I run out of time. I tell myself I work better under pressure, but really this is because I can no longer put it off.
I thought that if he had had the right kind of support and encouragement, that anxious student might have got all of his work submitted. I don’t know what sort of support he received beyond the deferral, but I am starting to think that whatever it was it wouldn’t have been enough. I think he’d rather withdraw than risk not meeting expectations (though whose expectations, I am not sure).
It’s tempting, isn’t it, to avoid putting our work ‘out there’. I could do that with this book, but it would be such a waste of my time, effort and energy to prevent myself from going forward because of this anxiety.
There can be many obstacles to overcome in the ‘world outside’. Let’s try hard not to be our own worst enemies.
This is post is connected to Amy Palko's Beautiful Beliefs writing circle.
Tuesday, 22 May 2012
Musings on marking
'It's strange,' said the Physio, 'because the rest of the time you are such a nice, kind person. But when you are marking, you just won't give your students the benefit of the doubt'.
I suppose this is true. Although if I'm inclined towards a mark of 59% and there’s half a possibility it could become a 60%, then I’ll give 60%. (This would move the students up from 2.2 into the 2.1 bracket). I did this with a dissertation last week. In fact, I had to argue the second marker up to 60%. But with my current first year students, who are struggling to get out of the 40s, no, I'm not inclined to magic them up to 50%. For some of them, I struggle to give a passing mark of 40%. And, unlike some other institutions, there is no pressure at Naval City University to pass a failing student. If they fail, then it's unfortunate, but they do fail.
I want them to do well. And I am fully prepared to go out of my way to help them, if they seek help. I have written in to the unit I am co-ordinating this semester three seminars on approaching different parts of the exam so that when they are finally assessed, they have already had some formative feedback (the unit mark is based wholly on one examination – this would not have been my choice of assessment, but I inherited the unit). So, offer help, I will. But I don’t think that giving students good marks for poor work will help them. I actually think that picking them up on poor spelling, grammar, punctuation and paragraphing, and on woolly thinking and sloppy argument, whilst they are in the first year and their marks don't count, is the kindest thing I can do. They might then learn from their mistakes in time to put them right before the marks really do start to count. I think they have been allowed to 'get away with' such errors for too long at school, and in allowing this, their schools (and the exam boards at GCSE and A level) have let them down very badly. I don't intend to let them down in this way, if I can help it.
Naval City University gives students a compulsory unit in Study Skills for University in which we teach them how to approach writing essays, but it is a unit some students do not take seriously. They think they already know how to do it because they got a B for A level (in some cases an A!). Many of those students didn't pass the unit.
I don't expect students to be thinking and writing at first class university level when they first arrive – those are skills they develop throughout their three years at university – but they should be able to write coherent sentences. The students whose essays I fail can't do this. They really struggle to express themselves. And now they are being marked on the 'whole piece of work' – what and how they write – rather than what I think they ought to be trying to say, their marks have fallen substantially, and many of them really struggle to understand why.
On one level, it might be considered kind of me to massage their marks so they don’t fail. But I think this sort of 'kindness' is why so many of them are genuinely surprised – and distressed – by their low marks. If they get good marks for poor work, they won't try to improve it. I'm sure that they are bright young people, but they need to learn how to express their ideas coherently, not just in order to get a 2.1 degree, but so that after university they can make themselves clearly understood, present a coherent argument at business meetings, or – if they go into teaching – teach children how to write well to avoid perpetuating this cycle.
Giving a fair, but sometimes low, mark for their work and giving feedback explaining how to do it better is the only way to encourage improvement. University is about more than just producing the 'right answer' to get the top marks, and I think I would be failing in my job if I don't at least try to help them to think, and express themselves, more clearly.
I suppose this is true. Although if I'm inclined towards a mark of 59% and there’s half a possibility it could become a 60%, then I’ll give 60%. (This would move the students up from 2.2 into the 2.1 bracket). I did this with a dissertation last week. In fact, I had to argue the second marker up to 60%. But with my current first year students, who are struggling to get out of the 40s, no, I'm not inclined to magic them up to 50%. For some of them, I struggle to give a passing mark of 40%. And, unlike some other institutions, there is no pressure at Naval City University to pass a failing student. If they fail, then it's unfortunate, but they do fail.
I want them to do well. And I am fully prepared to go out of my way to help them, if they seek help. I have written in to the unit I am co-ordinating this semester three seminars on approaching different parts of the exam so that when they are finally assessed, they have already had some formative feedback (the unit mark is based wholly on one examination – this would not have been my choice of assessment, but I inherited the unit). So, offer help, I will. But I don’t think that giving students good marks for poor work will help them. I actually think that picking them up on poor spelling, grammar, punctuation and paragraphing, and on woolly thinking and sloppy argument, whilst they are in the first year and their marks don't count, is the kindest thing I can do. They might then learn from their mistakes in time to put them right before the marks really do start to count. I think they have been allowed to 'get away with' such errors for too long at school, and in allowing this, their schools (and the exam boards at GCSE and A level) have let them down very badly. I don't intend to let them down in this way, if I can help it.
Naval City University gives students a compulsory unit in Study Skills for University in which we teach them how to approach writing essays, but it is a unit some students do not take seriously. They think they already know how to do it because they got a B for A level (in some cases an A!). Many of those students didn't pass the unit.
I don't expect students to be thinking and writing at first class university level when they first arrive – those are skills they develop throughout their three years at university – but they should be able to write coherent sentences. The students whose essays I fail can't do this. They really struggle to express themselves. And now they are being marked on the 'whole piece of work' – what and how they write – rather than what I think they ought to be trying to say, their marks have fallen substantially, and many of them really struggle to understand why.
On one level, it might be considered kind of me to massage their marks so they don’t fail. But I think this sort of 'kindness' is why so many of them are genuinely surprised – and distressed – by their low marks. If they get good marks for poor work, they won't try to improve it. I'm sure that they are bright young people, but they need to learn how to express their ideas coherently, not just in order to get a 2.1 degree, but so that after university they can make themselves clearly understood, present a coherent argument at business meetings, or – if they go into teaching – teach children how to write well to avoid perpetuating this cycle.
Giving a fair, but sometimes low, mark for their work and giving feedback explaining how to do it better is the only way to encourage improvement. University is about more than just producing the 'right answer' to get the top marks, and I think I would be failing in my job if I don't at least try to help them to think, and express themselves, more clearly.
Tuesday, 15 June 2010
Making (some) progress
Well, the conference paper on 'new stuff' went reasonably well, although there was very little discussion of my paper after the panel. I suppose if the audience had felt strongly that my reading should be challenged they would have done so, either during questions or afterwards, so I'm taking this as positive. Perhaps the audience were all just tired though.
I ran out of time to write some more 'new stuff' for my second conference in May, but managed to find a section on my thesis to present instead, without looking too much like I'd shoe-horned it in. That conference was an extremely interesting day on one topic, with plenty of time for discussion, and I enjoyed very much being back in the Beautiful Scottish City that I Miss.
Now my plans are to turn the first paper into an article, reasonably quickly. I wanted to carry on with it immediately after the conference, but with exam papers to mark, a further paper to produce and then twelve 4000-word projects to mark, I've sort of lost the momentum. But, my co-organisers have managed to find an avenue for publication of the conference papers as a special edition of a journal, and I'm excited about producing something to publish. Hopefully my writing nerves won't impede me too much.
I might revisit the section taken from my thesis for the second paper to produce an article too, but I might just leave that one in order to develop it when I turn my thesis into a book (book proposal part 2 of summer plan). I also have an article I've been sitting on for nearly twelve months that needs some referencing amendments and that's article no.2 or 3.
So, I feel I'm making progress. Not a lot, but some. And that is better than no progress at all.
I ran out of time to write some more 'new stuff' for my second conference in May, but managed to find a section on my thesis to present instead, without looking too much like I'd shoe-horned it in. That conference was an extremely interesting day on one topic, with plenty of time for discussion, and I enjoyed very much being back in the Beautiful Scottish City that I Miss.
Now my plans are to turn the first paper into an article, reasonably quickly. I wanted to carry on with it immediately after the conference, but with exam papers to mark, a further paper to produce and then twelve 4000-word projects to mark, I've sort of lost the momentum. But, my co-organisers have managed to find an avenue for publication of the conference papers as a special edition of a journal, and I'm excited about producing something to publish. Hopefully my writing nerves won't impede me too much.
I might revisit the section taken from my thesis for the second paper to produce an article too, but I might just leave that one in order to develop it when I turn my thesis into a book (book proposal part 2 of summer plan). I also have an article I've been sitting on for nearly twelve months that needs some referencing amendments and that's article no.2 or 3.
So, I feel I'm making progress. Not a lot, but some. And that is better than no progress at all.
Monday, 10 May 2010
Getting back out there...
I am having a major crisis of confidence over a conference paper I am writing.
It's the first piece of new research writing I have done since I submitted my thesis a LONG time ago. My last conference paper was taken from my thesis, so I knew before I went to the conference that that reading of that play has already been 'approved' in a variety of ways. This is new. This is mine. And I haven't had a supervisor read it, or an examiner tell me it's good enough to pass.
I think my paper will be one of the last on the day, and I'm concerned that, after everyone else's, mine will look very thin. There are so many other things I would like to do to it / add to it, but there just isn't space in a 20 minute paper. I'm also worried that I have fallen into 'lecture writing' mode, since lectures are the only things I have researched and written in the last 2-3 years. I work hard on my lectures, to produce informative and critically engaged / engaging material for the students, but I also think that this is a different discipline from research related writing.
I made a deliberate decision to produce something new for this conference, to boost my research self-esteem (when you've produced nothing other than lectures for a few years, you start to wonder if you'll ever be able to get back into it). But at the moment I feel more academically (and professionally) vulnerable than I have felt in a very long time.
I suppose the only real way to overcome this is to expose my paper to the questions and criticisms of the conference delegates and see what happens.
But I admit, I'm a more than a little bit scared.
It's the first piece of new research writing I have done since I submitted my thesis a LONG time ago. My last conference paper was taken from my thesis, so I knew before I went to the conference that that reading of that play has already been 'approved' in a variety of ways. This is new. This is mine. And I haven't had a supervisor read it, or an examiner tell me it's good enough to pass.
I think my paper will be one of the last on the day, and I'm concerned that, after everyone else's, mine will look very thin. There are so many other things I would like to do to it / add to it, but there just isn't space in a 20 minute paper. I'm also worried that I have fallen into 'lecture writing' mode, since lectures are the only things I have researched and written in the last 2-3 years. I work hard on my lectures, to produce informative and critically engaged / engaging material for the students, but I also think that this is a different discipline from research related writing.
I made a deliberate decision to produce something new for this conference, to boost my research self-esteem (when you've produced nothing other than lectures for a few years, you start to wonder if you'll ever be able to get back into it). But at the moment I feel more academically (and professionally) vulnerable than I have felt in a very long time.
I suppose the only real way to overcome this is to expose my paper to the questions and criticisms of the conference delegates and see what happens.
But I admit, I'm a more than a little bit scared.
Tuesday, 23 March 2010
Seeing differently 2: confidence and criticism
I know I said in my previous ‘seeing differently’ post that we shouldn’t judge by each other’s standards, but in this post I’m going to suggest that we take into account what others think we are capable of (only if it’s positive!). We are often so much more ‘down’ on ourselves than we should be.
We all have insecurities about our abilities. I’m just going to take one, teaching related example from this academic year. For the first term, I taught two theory classes. One group is very friendly, interested, relaxed and open to new ideas. In the other, I had two or three students who spent the whole class looking sullen, responding to my questions with a certain amount of diffidence, and in general looking at me like I didn’t know what I was doing, either as a tutor or in relation to the theoretical concepts I was teaching. I admit, I am not at my most confident teaching some theories (Lacanian psychoanalysis on the mirror stage is one of them) but I know I am a good tutor. I have student feedback forms that say this. I have peer reviews that say this. I have several years of experience, and have learned some useful techniques for running seminars, and also, for teaching theory. But three sulky students managed to bring out the underlying theory-related securities that I have. Half way through the year, a colleague whose specialism is in philosophy and literary theory returned from sabbatical and took over teaching the group with the sullen students. (I have since learned that these students behave the same way in his classes as mine, suggesting it was not my teaching that was their problem).
Since I was teaching them at the time they handed in their essays, I had to mark them. These essays allow students the freedom to do a theoretically-informed analysis of any text they wish, and this makes the assignments difficult to mark. I also am not involved in setting the questions for this team taught course, and I think most people would agree it is easier to mark questions that you have set. However, I marked the essays and then passed them over to Theory Confident Colleague. I worried that he would look at them and think my marking was terrible, and my knowledge and application of theory was poor. I found myself avoiding him, in case he challenged me on this. He has never given me any reason to think that he thinks I am not competent, but because I know this is his specialism, and because I am not 100% convinced of my abilities in this area, I project my insecurities onto him, and turn it into his potential judgement of me.
I have marked theory essays and projects before and my marks matched up with the moderator’s mark. Other colleagues think I am a good tutor; I have been peer reviewed in theory classes with positive comments. I don’t say this to blow my own trumpet. I say this to emphasise that I, and I think we, are more inclined to listen to - or indeed invent - negative criticism that is in tune with our own insecurities than we are to take on board the positive things people say.
But we need to start taking on board positive criticism too. The reason colleagues say nice things about my teaching / lectures / marking /research (cross out until you get the one that applies to you) is because I have done something else – or this before – that gives them the impression that I can do it. Why don’t I believe them enough to be confident? I need to start seeing myself, my work, my abilities differently.
I was going to write this post some time ago, but one of my Shakespeare students questioned her grade and complained not to me, but to a senior colleague, who, as course convenor, then asked to moderate my marking. Because I had come out from under a mountain of 130 essays, and several of my students had got lower grades than I would have expected of them based on seminar performance, I assumed that it was my marking rather than the student’s complaint that was in the wrong, and lost the confidence I had found to write this.
My senior colleague agreed my grades, and the student will have to work harder in her exam revision to raise her final grade. But the fact I so nearly didn’t write this is testament to the fact that I needed to write it. I’m not saying we ought not to take on board comments that may be critical of our practices; everyone has things to learn. But we shouldn’t focus exclusively on the negative, or project our insecurities onto colleagues’ possible opinions. If your colleagues tell you that you are good at something, believe them!
We all have insecurities about our abilities. I’m just going to take one, teaching related example from this academic year. For the first term, I taught two theory classes. One group is very friendly, interested, relaxed and open to new ideas. In the other, I had two or three students who spent the whole class looking sullen, responding to my questions with a certain amount of diffidence, and in general looking at me like I didn’t know what I was doing, either as a tutor or in relation to the theoretical concepts I was teaching. I admit, I am not at my most confident teaching some theories (Lacanian psychoanalysis on the mirror stage is one of them) but I know I am a good tutor. I have student feedback forms that say this. I have peer reviews that say this. I have several years of experience, and have learned some useful techniques for running seminars, and also, for teaching theory. But three sulky students managed to bring out the underlying theory-related securities that I have. Half way through the year, a colleague whose specialism is in philosophy and literary theory returned from sabbatical and took over teaching the group with the sullen students. (I have since learned that these students behave the same way in his classes as mine, suggesting it was not my teaching that was their problem).
Since I was teaching them at the time they handed in their essays, I had to mark them. These essays allow students the freedom to do a theoretically-informed analysis of any text they wish, and this makes the assignments difficult to mark. I also am not involved in setting the questions for this team taught course, and I think most people would agree it is easier to mark questions that you have set. However, I marked the essays and then passed them over to Theory Confident Colleague. I worried that he would look at them and think my marking was terrible, and my knowledge and application of theory was poor. I found myself avoiding him, in case he challenged me on this. He has never given me any reason to think that he thinks I am not competent, but because I know this is his specialism, and because I am not 100% convinced of my abilities in this area, I project my insecurities onto him, and turn it into his potential judgement of me.
I have marked theory essays and projects before and my marks matched up with the moderator’s mark. Other colleagues think I am a good tutor; I have been peer reviewed in theory classes with positive comments. I don’t say this to blow my own trumpet. I say this to emphasise that I, and I think we, are more inclined to listen to - or indeed invent - negative criticism that is in tune with our own insecurities than we are to take on board the positive things people say.
But we need to start taking on board positive criticism too. The reason colleagues say nice things about my teaching / lectures / marking /research (cross out until you get the one that applies to you) is because I have done something else – or this before – that gives them the impression that I can do it. Why don’t I believe them enough to be confident? I need to start seeing myself, my work, my abilities differently.
I was going to write this post some time ago, but one of my Shakespeare students questioned her grade and complained not to me, but to a senior colleague, who, as course convenor, then asked to moderate my marking. Because I had come out from under a mountain of 130 essays, and several of my students had got lower grades than I would have expected of them based on seminar performance, I assumed that it was my marking rather than the student’s complaint that was in the wrong, and lost the confidence I had found to write this.
My senior colleague agreed my grades, and the student will have to work harder in her exam revision to raise her final grade. But the fact I so nearly didn’t write this is testament to the fact that I needed to write it. I’m not saying we ought not to take on board comments that may be critical of our practices; everyone has things to learn. But we shouldn’t focus exclusively on the negative, or project our insecurities onto colleagues’ possible opinions. If your colleagues tell you that you are good at something, believe them!
Thursday, 17 December 2009
Seeing differently 1: making your own way
As Christmas and then the new year approaches (one of my students recently said that 2010 sounded scarily futuristic, and she may be right), this is the first of a few posts on seeing differently.
This one began as an email to a friend responding to his Facebook status update on feeling ‘behind’ in comparison to his colleagues.
I wanted to say something comforting in a comment his update but all I could think of was that I am now 2+ yrs post-thesis submission and don't think I will ever ‘catch up’ with some of my friends who have only just finished theirs, and already have a couple of articles, or book chapters and a variety of editing experience. But I realised that this sort of side glancing, side-swiping at ourselves – that others are making better, faster progress – is a normal part of academic life, and we have to find ways not to let it get us so far down that we only see 'failure' when we look at other people, rather than a track along which to progress.
The only way forward is to look forward in our own 'track' and not look sideways at other people's. So I’m adopting a new attitude: what's the next thing *I* can achieve? Finishing my marking is a thing off the 'to do' list (and counts in experience) but isn't a positive goal in my career progress track. So, now I’m aiming to finish an article I was nearly done with in the summer and then sending it to a journal. Voila, article 'under consideration' on my cv. Then on to writing my book proposal. I have written on so many job applications that I am ‘working on’ this, now it’s time to really do it. And not just work on it, but get it done and on its way to an academic press. And then I’m writing a conference paper which I can turn into an article. That will be new research, and I hope it will remind me how much I like my research topics and texts.
I know I can’t do all of this at once. And, yes, I do have to do my marking (about 130-140 essays) over the Christmas holidays. But since I managed to finish a big project this term, along with my heavy teaching commitments, I’m starting to think that I might be able to do it. But I won’t if I keep letting other people’s achievements hold me back. So from now on, in time for the New Year, I’m going to start seeing my work differently.
This one began as an email to a friend responding to his Facebook status update on feeling ‘behind’ in comparison to his colleagues.
I wanted to say something comforting in a comment his update but all I could think of was that I am now 2+ yrs post-thesis submission and don't think I will ever ‘catch up’ with some of my friends who have only just finished theirs, and already have a couple of articles, or book chapters and a variety of editing experience. But I realised that this sort of side glancing, side-swiping at ourselves – that others are making better, faster progress – is a normal part of academic life, and we have to find ways not to let it get us so far down that we only see 'failure' when we look at other people, rather than a track along which to progress.
The only way forward is to look forward in our own 'track' and not look sideways at other people's. So I’m adopting a new attitude: what's the next thing *I* can achieve? Finishing my marking is a thing off the 'to do' list (and counts in experience) but isn't a positive goal in my career progress track. So, now I’m aiming to finish an article I was nearly done with in the summer and then sending it to a journal. Voila, article 'under consideration' on my cv. Then on to writing my book proposal. I have written on so many job applications that I am ‘working on’ this, now it’s time to really do it. And not just work on it, but get it done and on its way to an academic press. And then I’m writing a conference paper which I can turn into an article. That will be new research, and I hope it will remind me how much I like my research topics and texts.
I know I can’t do all of this at once. And, yes, I do have to do my marking (about 130-140 essays) over the Christmas holidays. But since I managed to finish a big project this term, along with my heavy teaching commitments, I’m starting to think that I might be able to do it. But I won’t if I keep letting other people’s achievements hold me back. So from now on, in time for the New Year, I’m going to start seeing my work differently.
Friday, 27 November 2009
Phew
Having spent a little time (whilst washing my hair) yesterday planning exactly what I was going to say to the Department administrator / HoD / HR / Payroll today if I did not get paid, I checked my account this morning, and actually - to my surprise - found money in it.
Payment. Finally.
I'm relieved.
I don't like using my cross voice....
Payment. Finally.
I'm relieved.
I don't like using my cross voice....
Thursday, 29 October 2009
Matters of Urgency
Dear Dept. Administrator,
Thank you for the email you forwarded to me yesterday. Prompted to do so by the red exclamation mark which usually denotes urgency regarding emails, I read this at my earliest opportunity. I am so glad that, four weeks into the term, my attention has been urgently drawn to all of the wonderful services the campus travel agent can provide for staff.
Unfortunately, I cannot afford to take advantage of these services, because I still do not have a contract, and will therefore not be paid until the end of next month at the earliest. Unless the travel agent facilities are able to cover funding me for my rent, phone, electricity and council tax bills, which I see from their multi-font poster attachment they do not, I will, for the moment, not be running over to their offices in any kind of hurry.
I would suggest that the request of the travel agent to circulate their promotional poster (which does not have a time limit on it) is not actually a matter of urgency, whatever the little red exclamation mark may tell you, or me. The lack of university network access, library borrowing rights and bill paying facilities that I and the other TAs are currently experiencing is, however, worthy of a little red exclamation mark. Please.
Thank you for the email you forwarded to me yesterday. Prompted to do so by the red exclamation mark which usually denotes urgency regarding emails, I read this at my earliest opportunity. I am so glad that, four weeks into the term, my attention has been urgently drawn to all of the wonderful services the campus travel agent can provide for staff.
Unfortunately, I cannot afford to take advantage of these services, because I still do not have a contract, and will therefore not be paid until the end of next month at the earliest. Unless the travel agent facilities are able to cover funding me for my rent, phone, electricity and council tax bills, which I see from their multi-font poster attachment they do not, I will, for the moment, not be running over to their offices in any kind of hurry.
I would suggest that the request of the travel agent to circulate their promotional poster (which does not have a time limit on it) is not actually a matter of urgency, whatever the little red exclamation mark may tell you, or me. The lack of university network access, library borrowing rights and bill paying facilities that I and the other TAs are currently experiencing is, however, worthy of a little red exclamation mark. Please.
Friday, 2 October 2009
Autumn
I like autumn.
I like crisp mornings, and changing leafy colours. I like the start of the academic year and the new start that it brings (it's actually better than New Year to me). New first year students looking lost, new courses to teach, new chances to 'be more productive this year'. I have agreed to take on a lot of work this year - not only teaching - but I am feeling much better about it now I have finished the admin job and can make my focus entirely academic. Teaching starts on Monday; the need to be better organised to fit things in around it is always a motivating factor.
My Little Dog likes autumn too. She likes the crunchy, swishy sound fallen leaves make when she walks through them or kicks them up, and the way that the wind floats the leaves around for her to chase. She also likes rain, because it means cuddles with towels (otherwise sensibly known as 'getting dried') when we get back.
She wasn't too sure this morning, though, when a leaf dropped beautifully and silently from a tree and landed squarely on the top of her head. Or this evening, when the same thing happened again (this second time was, judging by the look she gave me, seemingly ALL MY FAULT). Apparently autumn is not so much fun when the leaves take you by surprise.
I like crisp mornings, and changing leafy colours. I like the start of the academic year and the new start that it brings (it's actually better than New Year to me). New first year students looking lost, new courses to teach, new chances to 'be more productive this year'. I have agreed to take on a lot of work this year - not only teaching - but I am feeling much better about it now I have finished the admin job and can make my focus entirely academic. Teaching starts on Monday; the need to be better organised to fit things in around it is always a motivating factor.
My Little Dog likes autumn too. She likes the crunchy, swishy sound fallen leaves make when she walks through them or kicks them up, and the way that the wind floats the leaves around for her to chase. She also likes rain, because it means cuddles with towels (otherwise sensibly known as 'getting dried') when we get back.
She wasn't too sure this morning, though, when a leaf dropped beautifully and silently from a tree and landed squarely on the top of her head. Or this evening, when the same thing happened again (this second time was, judging by the look she gave me, seemingly ALL MY FAULT). Apparently autumn is not so much fun when the leaves take you by surprise.
Monday, 28 September 2009
Preparation
Teaching starts next week, and in the first 10 week term, I'm giving 6 lectures. But trying to manage my time and get started on one or more of these is proving difficult.
'Why?', you ask.
Because although teaching starts next week, I do not yet have a contract. Not a problem for preparation, in and of itself, you might say. And you'd be right. Although it will undoubtedly mean that I am not going to get paid in October, this seems to be standard for teaching assistants now - we go to the bottom of the contracts pile - and not getting paid at the end of the first month of teaching is not new to me. It's a problem I can grumble about, and it might affect my ability to pay bills, but it doesn't actually affect my getting organised preparation.
Not having a contract does, however, mean I also cannot have a library card. This is because the university prioritises money over teaching and research, and cut me off at the end of my last 9month teaching contract. (You may not borrow books or use the e-resources off campus if you are not paying money to or being paid money by the university.) Officially, then, I can have a library card from the start of my teaching contract, but not before. So I can start preparing for teaching as long as I do it after I've started.
The very helpful lady in the library said she could bypass the systems for me (by which the library are notified by HR that I exist after I have signed and returned my contract) if I bring my contract to the library enquiry desk.
I would do this. But I don't yet have a contract. And I am unlikely to have one before the start of next week - last year I didn't have one until 2 or 3 weeks into the term. So if that's anything to go by (and if my friends hadn't today offered me space on their library cards), I could probably start preparing for my Monday lectures in week 4 and week 5 in the middle of week 4.
Helpful, eh?
'Why?', you ask.
Because although teaching starts next week, I do not yet have a contract. Not a problem for preparation, in and of itself, you might say. And you'd be right. Although it will undoubtedly mean that I am not going to get paid in October, this seems to be standard for teaching assistants now - we go to the bottom of the contracts pile - and not getting paid at the end of the first month of teaching is not new to me. It's a problem I can grumble about, and it might affect my ability to pay bills, but it doesn't actually affect my getting organised preparation.
Not having a contract does, however, mean I also cannot have a library card. This is because the university prioritises money over teaching and research, and cut me off at the end of my last 9month teaching contract. (You may not borrow books or use the e-resources off campus if you are not paying money to or being paid money by the university.) Officially, then, I can have a library card from the start of my teaching contract, but not before. So I can start preparing for teaching as long as I do it after I've started.
The very helpful lady in the library said she could bypass the systems for me (by which the library are notified by HR that I exist after I have signed and returned my contract) if I bring my contract to the library enquiry desk.
I would do this. But I don't yet have a contract. And I am unlikely to have one before the start of next week - last year I didn't have one until 2 or 3 weeks into the term. So if that's anything to go by (and if my friends hadn't today offered me space on their library cards), I could probably start preparing for my Monday lectures in week 4 and week 5 in the middle of week 4.
Helpful, eh?
Thursday, 27 August 2009
I don't *think* that was what I said...
After some serious consideration, weighing up how much work it will be and balancing that against making my CV shiny, and generally looking like I know what I'm talking about in the world of early modern literature, I agreed to take over writing the summary of the year's work in renaissance literature studies. Someone I know by association with Supervisor emailed me out of the blue saying he now has post doc funding and his project means he is too busy to do it now, but if I was interested he would suggest me as his successor. It is one of very few times that 'who you know' has actually worked for me. (I say this with some hesitation, knowing how much work I'll have to do in quite a short time, but it will be very shiny on my CV).
The guy who is handing over to me sent me an email saying he'd already sent for some of the books to review, and he would post them on to me, but he would like to keep two of them for his own research. So he suggested two options and asked which I would prefer:
a) He would keep the books, read them, write a short review paragraph for each of them and send that to me to be silently included in my own review
or
b) He will send the books to me, I can read and do my own review and then send those particular ones back.
As much as I was tempted to option a) - less work for me - I decided that I was uncomfortable passing his work off as mine both because I fundamentally object to plagiarism, and because if the comments are going to have my name to them, then I want to have read what 'I' am commenting on. (And you know that the one time anyone asks me about anything I've written, it will be about one of these books that I actually haven't read). So I sent him an email supporting option b), and promising to read those ones first and get them back to him ASAP. I told him I'd be on holiday for a couple of weeks, and asked him not to send anything until after I got back to make sure they don't get lost in being held at the post office. He said that was fine.
Today I got an email telling me he had put the books in the post, and could I let him know when they arrive. [Fine; yes; no problem]. But it also said 'I have kept a few as I mentioned earlier - shall I send you the reviews to add into your piece?'
Erm... I don't think that was what I said. And really, if you'd already decided what you were going to do, why did you even ask?
The guy who is handing over to me sent me an email saying he'd already sent for some of the books to review, and he would post them on to me, but he would like to keep two of them for his own research. So he suggested two options and asked which I would prefer:
a) He would keep the books, read them, write a short review paragraph for each of them and send that to me to be silently included in my own review
or
b) He will send the books to me, I can read and do my own review and then send those particular ones back.
As much as I was tempted to option a) - less work for me - I decided that I was uncomfortable passing his work off as mine both because I fundamentally object to plagiarism, and because if the comments are going to have my name to them, then I want to have read what 'I' am commenting on. (And you know that the one time anyone asks me about anything I've written, it will be about one of these books that I actually haven't read). So I sent him an email supporting option b), and promising to read those ones first and get them back to him ASAP. I told him I'd be on holiday for a couple of weeks, and asked him not to send anything until after I got back to make sure they don't get lost in being held at the post office. He said that was fine.
Today I got an email telling me he had put the books in the post, and could I let him know when they arrive. [Fine; yes; no problem]. But it also said 'I have kept a few as I mentioned earlier - shall I send you the reviews to add into your piece?'
Erm... I don't think that was what I said. And really, if you'd already decided what you were going to do, why did you even ask?
Thursday, 16 July 2009
Is someone trying to tell me something?
Last night, I dreamed that the university to which I was attached (in the dream - it wasn't a university I recognise from my waking life, so I don't know what position I had there) had moved me into a different office. Without telling me. I had to ask a friend (one I did recognise from my waking life, but whom I have not seen for some time) where my stuff was and why I'd been moved. He didn't know why, but took me to what can only be described as a cupboard with bookshelves and a chair, where I found that all of my boxfiles of printed off articles, notes and my own work had been drenched in a large scale leak. I tried to get them out to dry them, but couldn't do it quickly enough; there was no space to spread them out and suddenly there was no one there to help.
Oh dear.
Oh dear.
Monday, 13 July 2009
In case of emergency, take laptop
My conference accommodation which they claimed was a hotel on campus was really a 'done up' halls of residence. We did get en suite rooms, but we also got halls-sized single beds (about 2/3 the size of an ordinary single), a grotty old wardrobe, a desk with a lamp, a chair, and central heating over which we had absolutely no control.
Sound familiar?
One night - having taken ages to get to sleep because it was so hot due to the heating over which I had no control - I was woken by a very loud siren. A little disorientated, I initially thought it was the alarm clock in the room and I tried to turn it off, but when I had woken up properly, I discovered it was, in fact, the fire alarm. I got out of bed, put on my jeans and shoes which I had put on the chair (I don't remember consciously laying them out for speedy dressing, but I think I had subconsciously slipped back into 'living in halls' mode, and we had so many fire alarms that I got in the habit of doing that) grabbed a cardigan and left the building.
Postgrad students, TAs, lecturers, senior lecturers and big named professors all standing outside at 2am in their pyjamas is a great levelling experience. Some with no cardigan / coat, some with no shoes etc - but 60% of them were clutching laptops to their chest. In the middle of the night, the fire alarm sounds and the very first thing they thought of was picking up their work.
So I wonder, does it make me a bad academic that I can honestly say that had I taken my laptop to the conference, I would have left it in my room?
[In case anyone is concerned, there was no fire - false alarm]
Sound familiar?
One night - having taken ages to get to sleep because it was so hot due to the heating over which I had no control - I was woken by a very loud siren. A little disorientated, I initially thought it was the alarm clock in the room and I tried to turn it off, but when I had woken up properly, I discovered it was, in fact, the fire alarm. I got out of bed, put on my jeans and shoes which I had put on the chair (I don't remember consciously laying them out for speedy dressing, but I think I had subconsciously slipped back into 'living in halls' mode, and we had so many fire alarms that I got in the habit of doing that) grabbed a cardigan and left the building.
Postgrad students, TAs, lecturers, senior lecturers and big named professors all standing outside at 2am in their pyjamas is a great levelling experience. Some with no cardigan / coat, some with no shoes etc - but 60% of them were clutching laptops to their chest. In the middle of the night, the fire alarm sounds and the very first thing they thought of was picking up their work.
So I wonder, does it make me a bad academic that I can honestly say that had I taken my laptop to the conference, I would have left it in my room?
[In case anyone is concerned, there was no fire - false alarm]
Saturday, 11 July 2009
An Imposter
Earlier this week I went to a large conference of early modernists. It's the first conference at which I've given a paper in a few years, and I was very nervous about it. I know many academics have fears of being revealed as frauds at these things (imposter syndrome) - even if they really do know their stuff - but I've not done much in the way of my own research for quite some time, and I was convinced everyone would be able to tell. I felt like an interloper at this gathering of early modernists. Most of my teaching recently (and research for lectures) has been on topics much more modern.
I sat through the conference, listening to lots of other academics whose paper were clear and impressively constructed. My paper was in the penultimate panel, so I spent much of the conference worrying that my paper wasn't as good, that I'd never be able to answer that sort of question, that I'd forgotten everything I used to know around the topic on which I was speaking (I took the paper from a chapter of my thesis), etc. Thankfully, the paper went well, so I think I got away with it.
I also met someone else who is working on the same parliamentary bill (in a different context) as I discussed in my paper - we plan to share work on this when we have written the articles. I'm planning to, no, going to turn this paper into a journal article. And then I'm going to start on a book proposal based on the thesis and / or a new article from scratch. That way at the next conference, I'll still worry about being exposed as knowing nothing, but I'll at least have some new research to discuss so that I can trick other conference delegates into thinking that I do know something.
I sat through the conference, listening to lots of other academics whose paper were clear and impressively constructed. My paper was in the penultimate panel, so I spent much of the conference worrying that my paper wasn't as good, that I'd never be able to answer that sort of question, that I'd forgotten everything I used to know around the topic on which I was speaking (I took the paper from a chapter of my thesis), etc. Thankfully, the paper went well, so I think I got away with it.
I also met someone else who is working on the same parliamentary bill (in a different context) as I discussed in my paper - we plan to share work on this when we have written the articles. I'm planning to, no, going to turn this paper into a journal article. And then I'm going to start on a book proposal based on the thesis and / or a new article from scratch. That way at the next conference, I'll still worry about being exposed as knowing nothing, but I'll at least have some new research to discuss so that I can trick other conference delegates into thinking that I do know something.
Sunday, 19 April 2009
Application enthusiasm.
Gathering up the enthusiasm to complete another application for a full time, permanent lectureship that I'm pretty sure I've got no chance of getting is very tough. I'm sure that lots of you reading Falling Leaves know and understand that feeling. And that you will also recognise the little nagging voice that I can hear in my head, saying "but this one might be the one you could have got, and if you don't apply then you won't get it and will have missed an opportunity. You will miss out and it will be your own fault".
So here I am, trying to finish marking a pile of essays by Monday morning (so that they can be moderated whilst I am at my admin job in the middle of the week and then can complete the marking admin processes and get them back to the office for the unmoveable deadline of Friday), attempting to prepare a lecture for 9am on Friday morning (my admin job takes 9-5 on Tues, Weds and Thurs), and trying convince myself to squeeze in completing the application for this job that I'm not going to get ("but might be the one I could have got if only I made the time to apply for it").
I just happened to check my mailbox on the way back from the shop today for mail from yesterday, and I had received a rejection letter for a job for which I applied some weeks ago. You may think, "At least they said thanks but no thanks, which is more than most places." And I'd agree with you. But I received a rejection letter from the same institution for the same job last week. Now, I know this is proabably just an admin error - maybe through a change of staff - but, being rejected twice for the same job seems particularly harsh. They really don't want me.
And it's not helping my levels of application enthusiasm.
So here I am, trying to finish marking a pile of essays by Monday morning (so that they can be moderated whilst I am at my admin job in the middle of the week and then can complete the marking admin processes and get them back to the office for the unmoveable deadline of Friday), attempting to prepare a lecture for 9am on Friday morning (my admin job takes 9-5 on Tues, Weds and Thurs), and trying convince myself to squeeze in completing the application for this job that I'm not going to get ("but might be the one I could have got if only I made the time to apply for it").
I just happened to check my mailbox on the way back from the shop today for mail from yesterday, and I had received a rejection letter for a job for which I applied some weeks ago. You may think, "At least they said thanks but no thanks, which is more than most places." And I'd agree with you. But I received a rejection letter from the same institution for the same job last week. Now, I know this is proabably just an admin error - maybe through a change of staff - but, being rejected twice for the same job seems particularly harsh. They really don't want me.
And it's not helping my levels of application enthusiasm.
Sunday, 29 March 2009
I agree.
I was just reading this post at Victorianitas, and was writing a comment, and realised that it was turning into a post of its own so I brought it over here to Falling Leaves.
I agree with everything September Blue says about the job market and her response to those who already have permanent jobs - and presumably salaries - who are not being sufficiently sensitive to the worries of PhD students and post-docs. (This does not apply to all salaried academics, I hasten to add, only to those holding those opinions to which she rightly objects).
I was talking (casually, on the bus) to a very bright masters student the other day who was planning on doing a PhD, and had had several meetings with members of the academic staff to talk about it. I asked her why she wanted to do one, and she gave two answers 1) She's interested in her subject and 2) she would quite like an academic job. When I said to her that the job market was very bad, and having a PhD is necessary for, but won't guarantee you, an academic job, she looked at me in complete surprise and said surely there aren't that many people with PhDs to take the jobs? I told her that the last short term teaching job I'd applied for (because there had been NO permanent jobs for 6months) had had 180 applicants, and she was speechless. No one explains to pre-PhDs that the job market is rubbish. And no one explains that it's not just any vacancy either, it has to be one in your area. You seem only to learn this from those who have been there / are there / are struggling to make post-doc ends meet whilst trying not to be totally disillusioned about an academic career.
I taught this student last year as a third year undergrad. She is not stupid. She is doing well on her MA. But you can't expect undergrad and MA students to KNOW things about academia if no one in a position to know tells them. At best, many academics who are settled in their jobs aren't aware of quite how bad the market is; at worst (and I don't think this applies to any of the departments with which I am associated), universities NEED postgrad students, and being honest and realistic in meetings with potential applicants won't bring in the money.
Yes, we should do PhDs because we are good at the subject and because we love the subject. But we should make sure that students know what they are getting in to. Those who really want to do it will do it anyway. Those who aren't sure might think twice about the investment of time and money they will have to make without any job guarantees. That does not mean they don’t love their subject. But loving your subject, as September Blue rightly suggests, does not keep a roof over your head, or put food on your plate.
I agree with everything September Blue says about the job market and her response to those who already have permanent jobs - and presumably salaries - who are not being sufficiently sensitive to the worries of PhD students and post-docs. (This does not apply to all salaried academics, I hasten to add, only to those holding those opinions to which she rightly objects).
I was talking (casually, on the bus) to a very bright masters student the other day who was planning on doing a PhD, and had had several meetings with members of the academic staff to talk about it. I asked her why she wanted to do one, and she gave two answers 1) She's interested in her subject and 2) she would quite like an academic job. When I said to her that the job market was very bad, and having a PhD is necessary for, but won't guarantee you, an academic job, she looked at me in complete surprise and said surely there aren't that many people with PhDs to take the jobs? I told her that the last short term teaching job I'd applied for (because there had been NO permanent jobs for 6months) had had 180 applicants, and she was speechless. No one explains to pre-PhDs that the job market is rubbish. And no one explains that it's not just any vacancy either, it has to be one in your area. You seem only to learn this from those who have been there / are there / are struggling to make post-doc ends meet whilst trying not to be totally disillusioned about an academic career.
I taught this student last year as a third year undergrad. She is not stupid. She is doing well on her MA. But you can't expect undergrad and MA students to KNOW things about academia if no one in a position to know tells them. At best, many academics who are settled in their jobs aren't aware of quite how bad the market is; at worst (and I don't think this applies to any of the departments with which I am associated), universities NEED postgrad students, and being honest and realistic in meetings with potential applicants won't bring in the money.
Yes, we should do PhDs because we are good at the subject and because we love the subject. But we should make sure that students know what they are getting in to. Those who really want to do it will do it anyway. Those who aren't sure might think twice about the investment of time and money they will have to make without any job guarantees. That does not mean they don’t love their subject. But loving your subject, as September Blue rightly suggests, does not keep a roof over your head, or put food on your plate.
Friday, 2 January 2009
New Year Activity
Well, this is my first post of 2009, so I guess the first thing to do is to say "Happy New Year!" to all readers of Falling Leaves. I hope this year brings you health and happiness, in whatever form that might take.
Today is also my birthday, so for me the beginning of January is not just the beginning of a new calendar year, but also a new year in my life. I'm not just making New Year's resolutions for 2009 because that's what people traditionally do at the beginning of the year, but because there are things that I would like to have done before my next birthday (it's a major one - you know, of the kind that end in 0) and I shall have to be organised if I'm going to do them.
So my New Year's resolution is to be more active this year. I don't just mean physically active, although that wouldn't go amiss. I mean active in a more general sense. Below is a list of what I intend to do. These are not my resolutions; they are the means to achieving my one resolution.
1) I will manage my time better.
2) I will do more research (to be honest, it will not be hard to do more of this than last year) - this will make me more research active, and I will be taking more positive action towards getting a permanent job.
3) I will arrange to meet up with my friends more often. This will stop me talking passively over the internet / text messages, and will help me not to spend my evenings inactively on facebook.
4) I will listen to more music. More can be accomplished when listening to CDs / radio than when watching television.
5) I will find a Yoga class so that I can be active and still at the same time. Yoga also makes me feel physically and mentally better, so I'm hoping that it will contribute to a more positive outlook to help me achieve other things. And adding more activities into my life-timetable will mean I have to be better at time management.
That brings me back to the beginning of the list. And it seems to be enough to be getting on with for now!
May 2009 bring all you wish for, and good luck in sticking to your own resolutions!
Today is also my birthday, so for me the beginning of January is not just the beginning of a new calendar year, but also a new year in my life. I'm not just making New Year's resolutions for 2009 because that's what people traditionally do at the beginning of the year, but because there are things that I would like to have done before my next birthday (it's a major one - you know, of the kind that end in 0) and I shall have to be organised if I'm going to do them.
So my New Year's resolution is to be more active this year. I don't just mean physically active, although that wouldn't go amiss. I mean active in a more general sense. Below is a list of what I intend to do. These are not my resolutions; they are the means to achieving my one resolution.
1) I will manage my time better.
2) I will do more research (to be honest, it will not be hard to do more of this than last year) - this will make me more research active, and I will be taking more positive action towards getting a permanent job.
3) I will arrange to meet up with my friends more often. This will stop me talking passively over the internet / text messages, and will help me not to spend my evenings inactively on facebook.
4) I will listen to more music. More can be accomplished when listening to CDs / radio than when watching television.
5) I will find a Yoga class so that I can be active and still at the same time. Yoga also makes me feel physically and mentally better, so I'm hoping that it will contribute to a more positive outlook to help me achieve other things. And adding more activities into my life-timetable will mean I have to be better at time management.
That brings me back to the beginning of the list. And it seems to be enough to be getting on with for now!
May 2009 bring all you wish for, and good luck in sticking to your own resolutions!
Friday, 5 December 2008
Philosophical conversation.
Yesterday morning, I arrived on campus much earlier than I need to for work in the Philosophy Department office. I stopped off at the coffee shop to buy coffee and a pastry, and then took both to my office 45 minutes before work start time, so that I could finish a task for a small job that I didn't list in my earlier post, and that should have been done some time ago. If I'm honest, I had just forgotten about it. So here is the conversation that I had in the corridor outside my office with a member of the academic staff in Philosophy.
Philosopher: You're in early!
Me: No, I'm not really here.
Philosopher: Ah, Ok. I haven't really seen you.
And I ducked into my office, and he continued down the corridor.
This struck me as particularly appropriate conversation to have in a Philosophy Department corridor at 8.15am.
I'm not even here now, actually...
Philosopher: You're in early!
Me: No, I'm not really here.
Philosopher: Ah, Ok. I haven't really seen you.
And I ducked into my office, and he continued down the corridor.
This struck me as particularly appropriate conversation to have in a Philosophy Department corridor at 8.15am.
I'm not even here now, actually...
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