Adjuncts Save

On Tuesday, I got into work late because I spent the morning driving through the snow and going on various wild goose chases at the local community college. (See my previous post.) I almost couldn't find a parking spot at the university and had decided that if I couldn't find a spot in the parking garage, it was going to be a work-from-home day. Between the icy sidewalks and my hip pain, I wasn't up for a long trek. Fortunately I found a spot on the roof of the parking garage.

When I got into my office, my Chair almost immediately stopped by and said "Hi Waning," with a huge smile on his face, so I knew something was up.

...

Let me backtrack.

In August, I mentioned that I was dreading this year like no other. Some of that has to do with a change in Chair and the slow decline of instructor status since that change. But most of it had to do with the fact that I had a rough semester last spring and was feeling very bitter throughout the summer. Most of the trauma centered around a course that I was not planning to teach, but then ended up teaching somewhat last minute. It is a course that I've taught before, but had decided not to offer because I noticed that the enrollment was declining and I wanted the chance to try to develop an online course and teach that instead. The Chair had approved this, the schedule was set, and students had already started enrolling, when apparently the Chair was informed that another department, unbeknownst to us, had made my course a required course for their program and demanded to have it put back into the course lineup. After much ado and reshuffling of schedules, I ended up swapping courses with another instructor so that I could teach this course, because at the time I was actually the only person who taught this course (which is good for job security, I guess).

Unfortunately, this didn't turn out well. For one, I was already trying to develop a new, online course (which, by the way, is an assload of f-ing work), and I basically had to redevelop this course as well - to the extent that it was practically as much work as a new course prep. This meant I essentially had two new course preps in one semester. I usually teach this course in an intense, week-long format; I taught it this way for the first time right before my son was born, so I could squish my fall teaching load into the summer and pre-term session in exchange for the fall off. Even 33 weeks pregnant, it went so well that I've never taught it in semester-long format since then. (Then again, my son was born six weeks early right after I finished teaching it, so maybe it wasn't the best idea, but that's a different story.) When I taught it in this accelerated format, the students were very motivated and focused, and the class was usually on the small side - never more than 40 people. I was also able to give the class my complete attention, whereas when I taught it during the semester, it tended to get somewhat lost in the shuffle.

So last semester, I was faced with teaching this course in semester-long format for the first time in three years, to 120 students who were pissed they had to take it. Since I had never taught this class with more than 60, and in more recent years not usually more than 20-30, I had to redo pretty much everything - mostly based on the fact that there was no way I could do that much grading (keeping in mind that this was just one of three courses I was teaching). I did the best that I could, but in the end that wasn't enough. I don't have the energy to go into the details, but I definitely finished the semester feeling extremely burned out and frustrated by a number of the students, by the fact that I had to teach more students in one class than many instructors teach in an entire semester or even year, by sooooo many things. And then, our teaching evaluations were posted and I pretty much lost it. As people later pointed out to me, they weren't actually THAT BAD; however, they were bad for me. In fact, I've only gotten worse evaluations for one course, ever, and that was my first semester at this job.

I could say a lot about teaching evaluations, but I'll just say a few things here. We are rated on various things on a scale from 1-6, and our evaluations are actually posted publicly. I don't think most people would actually stumble across them randomly, but of course all the faculty look at each others' evaluations, even though no one will admit to it openly. Although everyone seems to agree that evaluations don't tell the whole story, in the same way that the average temperature in Santa Barbara, CA, is the same as the average temperature in Chicago, IL, there's no evidence that instructors are really evaluated based on any other criteria. So evaluations matter. While a few really negative comments seem to be pretty much inevitable, it's still hard not to take them personally. And apparently this never gets better; I've had many conversations with people with 30 years of stellar evaluations who still get really upset over a few bad comments here and there. Probably the hardest part of it was that I usually get a few 1's here and there - again, pretty much inevitable - but this was the first time I've gotten so many 1's. Something a colleague once said to me pretty much sums up how I feel about 1's. He said, "I'm not saying I'm the greatest teacher ever, but I know I'm not a 1. If I get 1's, it's personal."

...

Anyway. I met with my Chair over the summer and told him I didn't want to teach the course anymore. Actually, I didn't go in to tell him that I didn't want to teach the course; I really went in to see if he could provide some guidance/leadership - like... you know how in some places the more experienced people mentor the less experienced people? Just a thought. (Note the sarcasm.) However, he just immediately volunteered that I didn't have to teach the course if I didn't want to, and that was that. Like... oh, your hip is hurting? Let's cut it off! In the end, I agreed I would teach the course in week-long format at the beginning of the fall term, but not in the spring. And then I ended up having to drop the fall course.

Enter: Adjunct to the rescue! 

So ever since my fallout last spring, this course has been taught by an adjunct, and seems to have fallen into the category of "class that will always be taught by an adjunct" - at least in the mind of the Chair. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on your perspective, many adjuncts eventually realize that they are being exploited, and leave. Which is what happened with this adjunct. After all, it is not difficult to find a job that pays more than $6,000/semester, which is about what this adjunct was making teaching 150 students in my former course + two labs. Since this adjunct had said he would teach the course in the spring as well, it leaves us in somewhat of a bind. And it puts me back into the same situation I was in a year ago. And it is the reason that on Tuesday, my Chair acknowledged my existence, and came into my office and said hi to me for the first time ever. Because now we're back to me being the only one who teaches this course. Unless, of course, we can find another adjunct, which is exactly what my Chair agreed to try to do. So I'm keeping my fingers and toes and eyes and heart and every other body part that can cross, crossed. There must be another sucker out there who can save me.

Turn and Face the Strange

All these years, I thought that David Bowie was singing "Turn and face the change" in his song "Changes," but I just Googled the lyrics, and it turns out he is actually singing "Turn and face the strange." I guess that is just as fitting.

Speaking of changes, I'm not a big fan. I complain about my students who can't stand me, yet sign up for my course second semester just because they can't stand the thought of change, but the reality is that that's exactly the way I am. I'd rather stick with a professor I know I don't like than venture into the unknown. Then again, I do not feel like I ever loathed a professor as much as some of my students apparently loathe me. I guess that just goes to show you that some people are even more change averse than I am.

I was re-reading some of my old journal entries, and three years ago, right after my son was born, I was writing about how excited I was at the prospect of applying to PA school. In fact, my colleague and I enrolled in an online abnormal psychology class at the community college together in the spring of 2012. That (former) colleague is now finishing his third year of PA school, while I'm... still here. So much for change.

I can come up with a few explanations ( = excuses, to be completely honest) for why I seem to have a hard time changing. Perhaps one of them is that it doesn't take a lot to make me happy. I've never been a super ambitious type. Now, just so I don't give the completely wrong impression, I am a fairly competitive, Type A person. I've always gotten good grades and the youthful me excelled in a number of different sports. But I never pushed myself quite hard enough to be as good as I could possibly be. And I'm okay with that. In my adult life, I'm just happy that I have a husband and kids and a house and a car and a decent job. I used to joke that my greatest ambitions in life were to own a house with two bathrooms and a car with air conditioning. I have both of those things now, so what more is there to want?

As I look back upon my past history of Not Changing, I'm finding it difficult to take the first step toward extracting myself from my current job and moving forward toward PA school again. Because, as I've mentioned, there are a lot of good things about my job, and not only that, I am good at my job. The idea of leaving a good job that I'm good at for something that could possibly suck for at least a few years, and that I might not even be good at, is daunting. Or maybe I'm just too lazy to do what I need to do to make it happen.

Anyway. I turned 40 on Sunday, and as a midlife gift to myself, I decided to take a baby step toward making a change. Today I drove down to the community college and enrolled in all the courses necessary for me to become an EMT (Emergency Medical Technician). I had tried to enroll online, but apparently these courses require instructor permission, and of course the instructor was simply listed as "TBA," and I tried calling various numbers, but not surprisingly, there is no single contact person for this program. I figured I might as well just go down to the campus in person and try to hunt someone down who could help me. I eventually succeeded, after multiple runarounds - though I have to say that everyone was very friendly and helpful, which has made me vow to be more friendly and helpful to the annoying people who pop into my office with extremely random questions.

When I finally got face-to-face with literally The Only Woman On Campus Who Could Help Me, the first thing she asked me was whether I had the prerequisites. Prerequisites? I asked what they were. She said there was an exam you had to take showing you were proficient in English and basic algebra. I said I hadn't taken the exam but that I did have a master's degree in biology. She asked if I had a transcript with me and I was like, "Uh... no." Fortunately, at that point, she looked at me oddly and said, "If you have a master's in biology, why on earth do you want to be an EMT?! You know you aren't going to make any money." I then explained to her that I knew that EMTs barely made any money (which is actually sort of frightening - I'd like to think that the person who stands between me and death is making more than $10/hour), and that I didn't really want to be an EMT. However, I was applying to PA school, and several people had recommended EMT certification to me. One of the programs I'm interested in requires 2,000 hours of paid medical experience, and one of the people I spoke to who is currently in that program suggested the EMT route to me. The other program I'm interested in does not require medical experience but is much harder to get into (and a lot of people do have medical experience despite the fact that it's not required). My PA actually suggested taking an EMT class just because she thought it would help once in PA school. She said the academics weren't difficult for her, but that the hands on stuff was more of a challenge.

By the end of the conversation, I had the woman convinced to grant me permission to enroll without taking the exam or producing transcripts. :) She added that it was too bad I couldn't take the Monday/Wednesday/Friday classes because that was the instructor she wanted me to have. She explained, "Most people find her really hard, but I think she's just really thorough." She then added that she often had to cancel the weekend classes (the ones I signed up for) because there weren't enough people, so I should have a Plan B. I told her that I'm actually a little worried about how my semester is going to unravel with four classes to teach and 12 credits to complete, so it won't be the end of the world if I have to put this off until the summer.

But for the time being, I'll just be proud of myself for making some baby steps toward change. I mean, who knows. Maybe I will HATE everything about this and decide not pursue PA school after all. But, it is a relatively minor financial investment, and I have to figure that it can't hurt. It is time for me to at least start pushing my comfort zone outward to see what sort of life might exist for me outside of the bubble of academia I've lingering within for the past 39 years. I think the 40th year is a good time to try something new.

We've gotta get out of this place...

... or at least I've gotta get out of this place...

... if it's the last thing I ever do.

I can't figure myself out. On the one hand, I'm often an extremely assertive person who has a hard time keeping her mouth shut. On the other hand, sometimes I'm not. Unfortunately, I tend to make a lot of noise about things that don't help me and just get me in trouble, while I tend to keep quiet about more meaningful things. For example, I have no trouble complaining about the fact that our department excludes instructors from important meetings (even when they pertain to courses taught solely by instructors) or that when it comes to things such as hiring decisions and meetings with outside reviewers, we actually get less input than students do, and various other things that basically just make the Chair dislike me. However, despite my occasional complaints, I never ask for anything. I have never tried to negotiate a higher salary for myself, I have never asked for extra money for doing "extra" things, I have never asked for an offload in exchange for doing X, Y, or Z, and yada yada yada. Part of the reason I've never done these things is because I didn't know these are things people actually do; however, after five years at the university, I'm perhaps becoming a little less naive. I've always rationalized the fact that I don't do any of these things by telling myself that at the end of the day, you have to be able to live with yourself. There's some truth in that, I guess, and the stress that things like this would cause me would probably outweigh the $500 or so that might come from them.

But the reality is that I don't do these things because I'm just too scared. I'm scared of the physical act of actually doing these things (which makes no sense considering I don't have a problem voicing my opinion) and even more, I'm scared of what will happen if I don't get what I am asking for. I'm scared of pissing my Chair off and coming across as too needy and getting even deeper on the Chair's shit list than I already am, and I'm also scared that I will be so bitter that I won't be able to function, and I will do something irrational like quit before it makes sense for me to quit.

Here is a specific example. I am in my sixth year right now, which means that I am eligible for a promotion from "instructor" to "senior instructor." In fact, I was eligible to become a senior instructor this academic year, which obviously did not happen. This is the only promotion that NTTF can ever receive, and it basically results in a minor change in title and a small pay raise ($3,000/year). The process of being nominated for senior instructor starts with department Chairs, and is almost always approved with the support of a Chair. It basically requires a letter of support and teaching evaluations from the past five years (mine are good, and even "really good" considering I teach mostly required courses to massive numbers of students - both factors that tend to make evaluations lower). In other words, it's not a highly selective process like tenure or even promotion from associate to full professor. In the large scheme of things, it is a sort of minor thing and I don't care that much, especially now that I've decided that I'm not going to be a lifelong academic. However, this is something that I feel I deserve, and I cannot help but feel somewhat pissy about the fact that my Chair has not put me up for promotion.

While this promotion has been in the back of my mind for a while, it actually only came to the front of my mind after several other people, including the Chair of the NTTF Committee as well as the former Provost of the school, told me that it was ridiculous that I had not been promoted, and that this was an Epic Fail In Leadership from my Chair. They both pushed me to pursue this "injustice" and promised they would try to do what they could from their end as well. The Chair of the NTTF Committee even told me that I could file a grievance for "back pay" after I was promoted (since in theory I "should have" been promoted starting in August). Again, this fits into the category of Really? PEOPLE DO THIS?! Argh. I hate shit like this. I just want to work hard and do my job well and be rewarded for doing my job well. But what do you do when that doesn't happen?

One of the reasons the Chair of the NTTF Committee was really pushing me to pursue this is because apparently the NTTF Committee pushed really hard to standardize the process of promotion from instructor to senior instructor, as well as standardize the pay raise across departments. So the NTTF Chair felt their efforts were in vain if they were not helping people like me. This reminds me of a situation my sister-in-law ran into as a new faculty member (at a different school). She was hired while pregnant and had a baby in her first semester. Of course, she felt that she could not take any time off, since she was only a few months into her new job; however, she was actually pressured to take maternity leave because her school had only recently granted maternity leave for faculty, and those who had fought so hard for maternity leave really wanted her to take advantage of this new benefit. (By the way, maternity leave is not standard for university faculty; at my school, neither TTF nor NTTF have maternity leave.)

With this in mind, a few days ago, in a rare moment of my Chair being in his office and available and me feeling brave, I went in and simply stated that it had come to my attention that I was eligible for a promotion this year, and that I was hoping he would nominate me. He stared back at me with a look that made me want to shrivel up and die, then said that yes, he was aware, and he intended to nominate me (which honestly means nothing except that he can't say no to my face). I thanked him and left. And that was that. And that's probably as far as it will go, because my Chair has a strong record of not following through with things. No one knows if it is because he just doesn't follow through with things or because he just can't say no - like... maybe he feels I'm really not worthy of senior instructor status but just can't tell me to my face. Whatever. At least I tried.

In the mean time, I'm still making plans to exit gracefully within the next few years, which makes a lot of this drama much easier to stomach. Also, I turn 40 in less than half an hour, and I feel like I don't have time to be angry in my 40s. Whether I exit as an instructor or senior instructor is fairly insignificant in my mind, and considering the stupid financial choices I've made in the past, I'm not going to spend much time crying over a few thousand bucks, even if they were deserved. What's the most important thing to me is that I've gotta (eventually) get out of this place, if it's the last thing I ever do.

Going out with Style

Something ridiculously embarrassing happened to me today. I was talking to my class about flowers, and we were going over the basic anatomy of a flower. I mentioned the the female part of the flower was called the carpel, which is composed of the stigma, the style, and the ovary. The style is the long, thin part between the stigma and the ovary. I told my students they should put the term "style" into their long-term vocabulary, as it is often used to describe long, thin structures (think "stylus"). I then said I could think of several "styloid processes" in the human body; these were always long(ish), bony projections. As I was talking, I was sort of doodling on the board, and something resembling the doodle to the right came out right as I was talking about "long, bony projections." A few girls in the front row immediately started snickering, and I realized right away that everything was coming out all wrong. So I said, "Okay, that did NOT come out right!" and quickly erased my doodle. But not before a good number of students just about peed themselves laughing. Oh the joys of getting to make a fool out of yourself in front of a huge lecture hall on a daily basis. If I do ever leave this job, I will miss it (and I really mean that).

Speaking of possible job changes, I'm having a really good semester. Go figure, right? Of course, I have said in the past that my relationship with my job is pretty much love/hate, with not much in between. I also think a major reason things seem to be going well for me is that I am only working 50%. I started off the semester extremely far behind, due to my mini health crises that prevented me from being as productive as I had planned on being over the summer. However, now I feel like I am finally starting to get slightly caught up, and I am also reaping the benefits of having five years of experience under my belt. I have been completely redoing my lectures, which I'm semi hating myself and semi loving myself for. As a result of foolishly fixing things that ain't broke, I'm never as prepared as I want to be when I go to class. I like to have all my notes typed out, but I just haven't had time. Fortunately, I'm able to lean heavily on the past experience of having taught most of this material a bajillion times already (okay, so not a bajillion, but 12). With this in mind, the thought of teaching this course a bajillion more times in my future is either horrid or wonderful - I can't decide which. On the one hand, it gets, well, kind of boring. And my department has made it clear to me that I will never ever get a chance to do something like develop a new course. On the other hand, the more I teach the same courses over and over, the easier it gets. In 25 years, this could be a pretty sweet gig. Or not.

While I'm still moving forward with my plan to leave this job sometime within the next couple of years, I haven't closed my mind to a miracle that might make me want to stay. Of course, I think a major reason I have been so much happier about work is precisely because I feel like I'm going to be leaving soon. This allows me to let a lot of things go that I wouldn't normally be able to let go of. I feel like I can smile and make small talk with my TTF colleagues for the next few years and secretly bang my head against the wall when I hear through hallway gossip that the department is making huge changes to the courses that I teach without actually asking me what I think about said changes. But I would not be able to keep quiet if I were in this for the long haul.

I think it's a vicious cycle. The department doesn't invest in its instructors or care about their long-term happiness because this is not a position many people stay in for long. In fact, of the seven instructors in my department, only one has been here longer than I have. Our positions are somewhat of a revolving door. But it doesn't have to be this way; instructor retention in other departments is much higher. Granted, in some cases, it isn't because the instructors are treated better, it's because they have fewer options, especially in some humanities departments. As far as respect for instructors, I'd say my department falls somewhere in the middle, so I realize it could actually be worse. If I do leave, perhaps I'm just reinforcing the notion that instructors are not to be considered long-term, permanent employees; perhaps I'll just be making the department a worse place for the colleagues I leave behind. I'd feel bad about that, because I do have some pretty awesome colleagues who deserve better than they get.

Regardless of what the future may hold, I'm in a good place right now mentally. I've had some struggles with ongoing pain in my hip, DVT that doesn't seem to be getting any better, and a couple of medium-level stressors centered around various other aspects of my life. Oddly enough, these things, combined with the many philosophical thoughts that seem to be constantly running through my head as I approach my 40th birthday, seem to be making me happier. I can't even begin to understand why, but fortunately this is something that falls outside the realm of science. :)

A Story of Stuff

(Not to be confused with the real Story of Stuff)

One of the coolest things about my job is that I know a lot of stuff about a lot of stuff. Granted... I know a lot of trivial stuff, but I also know a lot of stuff about (what I like to think is) relevant stuff. I enjoy knowing so much stuff - both the trivial and the relevant. And I'm not bragging; I certainly didn't know all this stuff when I started this job. It is staying on top of my job and trying to answer students' questions and trying to learn enough in anticipation of students' questions that has forced me to stay on top of so much stuff. As an instructor who teaches a variety of courses, I know a lot of stuff about a lot of different stuff (breadth) compared to even TTF, who know TONS (shit tons) of stuff about a few things (depth). In a typical day, I spend an hour or more reading and/or watching videos, trying to come up with material for an interesting and current lecture or trying to come up with a good answer to a student's good question. For someone like me, who has always been way more "book smart" than hands-on savvy, this is a match made in heaven. I basically get paid to learn and know stuff!

Unfortunately, as I attempt to transition out of a career in academia, I realize none of this matters. There is no place on a CV or job application or even an application for an academic program where you can put "I know a ton of stuff." Maybe that's because it doesn't matter, but I like to think it does. I'd like to HOPE that it does, anyway. For example, I've never actually read an EKG as part of my job description, but I understand the cardiac cycle and know what parts of the cycle the waves in an EKG represent, which I have to believe would make it easier for me to learn to interpret an abnormal EKG. I understand how cells divide and the changes that occur on a cellular level that turn normal cells into cancerous, rogue cells, which I believe would make it easier for me to understand exactly how cancer treatments work. I know all the major muscles and blood vessels of the body, I know how kidneys work, I know how a lot of poisons and herbicides and pesticides work, I know what many anemias and leukemias look like through the microscope, I know why once you have malaria you almost never get rid of it, I know why sometimes it's a good thing to not wash your hands so much and even eat poop. I know a lot of stuff other people don't know - not because I'm brilliant, but because this is an unwritten job requirement, if I want to do a good job at my job. I have to know everything in the textbooks I use for my classes and then some.

I should back up.

As I mentioned in my last post, I'm certain that I cannot continue this job for much longer, despite the really great aspects of it. At the risk of coming across as shallow and materialistic, I will say that this decision is driven in large part by money, and my desire to have a career that can comfortably support my family in the upper middle class lifestyle to which we have become accustomed (and which, I should add, is very necessary in the United States, which IMHO is not kind to poor people). I've thus decided to return to the path that got me into the sciences in the first place: health care.

Now, I know, the health care system in the U.S. is pretty much messed up; this seems to be something most people agree on, whether they side with Obama or the Tea Party. In fact, I recently had an informal job interview of sorts with the owner of a very successful physical therapy clinic in town, who asked me why on earth I was interested in working in this "messed up system" when I already had a "good" job. In fact, he was currently getting a doctorate of physical therapy with the goal of someday teaching at the university. I assured him that I understood the shortcomings of the American health care system, but then added that the American university system wasn't exactly awesome either. He about fainted when I informed him of the reality of university faculty salaries.

When I compare my current position to jobs in health care that require approximately the same amount of education (or less) than I have, it is a no-brainer for me. According to Bureau of Labor Statistics, the median annual salaries of selected health care professionals (with required levels of education) are as follows:

Associate's Degree:
Physical Therapy Assistants: $53,360

Bachelor's Degree:
Registered Nurses: $65,470

Master's Degree:
Physician Assistants: $90,930
Nurse Practitioners: $95,070

Master's or Doctorate Degree:
Physical Therapists: $79,860

In the interest of full disclosure, I feel like I should discuss a few things. The BLS does list the median salary of "Post Secondary Teachers" as $68,970/year, close to the salary of an RN, but that does not distinguish between NTTF and TTF. I'm 99% certain that even if I worked for 25 more years in my current job, I would never make $68,000+/year, even with inflation. As I've mentioned before, I currently make $38,500/year on a 9-month contract. As some people love to point out, if I worked 12 months out the year, that would translate into about $51,300/year (still less than many PTAs make, and that is an AS-level job!). Besides, extending my 9-month salary to 12 months is not actually a possibility for me, even if I did teach during the summer. Summer wages are calculated differently, and... it's complicated. Basically my maximum earning potential right now is somewhere around $40-$45K/year, and that is unlikely to change drastically, ever.

When I tell people I'm considering leaving my job, they often act as if I'm crazy and as if I don't know how good I have it and as if a spoiled rotten academic like me has no idea what "hard work" is and could never make it "in the real world" and yada yada yada. But believe me, I've definitely considered everything, including the "hard work" and "real world" factors, as well as the cost of after school care and summer care, which are necessary for most standard jobs. My husband has a "standard job," so I do have knowledge of the "real world." Plus, shockingly, academic knowledge does not prevent having practical, financial savvy as well. And the reality is that there is a really big difference between $38,000/year and, say, $75,000/year (a typical starting salary for PAs in my region), even when you add in things like after school care and working 12 months out of the year. (And by the way, I work a lot during the summer, despite the fact that I'm not paid for it. I actually enjoy working!)

It's not as if I feel my decisions need justification to anyone except myself and my immediate family; nonetheless, I think this is a topic that interests a lot of people. Some of this interest stems from the intrigue of having two or three months off per year, something that many people claim they would happily surrender two or three months of their salary for. The other part comes from not understanding the realities of being university faculty. (And if, in reading this, you become inspired to seek out a job in academia, then kudos to you. :))

I know that academics are notorious for having "useless knowledge," but I really hope that my knowledge is not useless, and that the past seven or so years of my life haven't been a complete waste of time. Considering that many of the courses I teach or have taught in the past are actually courses that are pre-requisites for many of the programs I'm interested in, I am hopeful. I hope the fact that I know lots of stuff about lots of stuff will help me transition into a career where I can actually make a decent salary, enough to keep my family off of public assistance and enough to keep putting money into my kids' college funds.

Regardless, at least I have a Plan B, which is staying where I am. And I have to admit that's not the worst Plan B a person could have. :)

Two Bottles of Wine

It has been over a month since I last updated, and I have a couple of different excuses for this. The first is that I started this blog to wean myself off of my other blog, and unfortunately, I still have plenty of material for that blog, which I had not anticipated.

The other reason is that when I decided to start this blog, I really thought that it might help me sort out my feelings with respect to my job, and help me decide on a path for my future. As I once wrote in a research paper, my analyses would either "make the obvious obvious," "make the obvious dubious," or "make the hidden obvious" (Source: Michael Patton, Qualitative Evaluation and Research Methods, 1990). I am not exactly sure which of these occurred while writing the few entries that I've written here, but whatever the case may be, I quickly came to a decision, and that decision is that I am not going to continue this job for much longer, which makes blogging sort of, I don't know, anti-climactic? Not that any of you were dying in suspense, lol, but still. So now it's not really a question of if I am going to leave this job; it is a question of when and how. And... what I will do with myself afterward.

I occasionally get cold feet about this decision, but I know it's the right one. In a way, I feel like it has been obvious for so long that there is no way I can do this job for the rest of my working life. On the other hand, I fear change, and as I've noted before, there are many positive aspects to my job that make it hard to leave. If I got just a little more (okay, a lot more) respect within my department and I made just a little more money (or knew there was at least a chance of me ever making more money without resorting to scamming), I could see myself languishing here forever, just because change is too difficult for me.

So I am now in the process of making some big decisions as to what the landscape of my Post University Life will look like, while at the same time trying to stay motivated enough to continue to do my job well. Admittedly, knowing that I'll likely be leaving within the next few years takes some pressure off me, but I know I owe it to my students to do a good job, and I also have a reasonable amount of personal pride. It is a challenge to try to find a balance between not spending ten zillion hours on a course I might never teach again, but spending enough time on it to make it worth the $1,000+ it costs to take it.

As for the title of this entry, the university sent us a message two days ago telling us that we should log on to the portal and review our pay advice, as it was the first payroll for the Academic Year 2014/15. I knew I had actually gotten one of the highest raises possible - around 3%. (Meanwhile the cost of a parking permit went up over 3%.) It turns out that this 3% raise translated into a $26/month increase in my take home pay. Awesome! But, as one of my colleagues told me, "Hey, that's two bottles of wine!" So as I sit in my office trying to work, I find myself humming, Two bottles of wine on the wall, two bottles of wine! Take one down and pass it around, one bottle of wine on the wall... Sometimes you just have to laugh at yourself.

New Year's Eve

It sort of is New Year's Eve, right? As an academic, I tend to measure years by academic years (AYs). The beginning of a new AY is always a time when I reflect on what I do well, try to change what I don't do well, and vow to do better.

Of course, this year is already off to a rough start. To recap: I had hip surgery, developed a blood clot, dropped to 50% for the semester, all of which is recounted in ridiculous detail on my other blog. And I have a whole new love/hate story to begin the new year by.

Love: On the one hand, my Chair has been extremely supportive of me and all of my last-minute crises. Finding a replacement for my courses took some doing, and he never once gave me a hard time about it, instead reassuring me that my health was what mattered the most.

Hate: On the other hand, the story behind getting rid of my second course perfectly illustrates the bizarre, behind-the-scenes train wrecks of my work life. Without going into nitty gritty detail, it turns out that we had a new TTF who did not have a teaching assignment for this semester (once again, think dysfunctional department). After much ado, the new TTF agreed to take over my course instead of a course being taught by a different instructor. Interestingly enough, although this problem most directly involved myself and this other instructor, it took two days worth of e-mailing amongst the tenure-track faculty to get this all worked out, and only after they reached a resolution were the other instructor and I privy to any of the correspondence that had been taking place. Furthermore, when it was finally decided that the new TTF would teach my course in my place, the Chair CCed another instructor into the conversation, only because it was expected that we all share our teaching materials with the new TTF. Of course, this instructor had NO IDEA that any of this was going on because she hadn't been included in any of the previous correspondence. She immediately replied, saying that she was happy to help out in any way, but also, "This is all news to me... Is Waning okay?!"

This made me realize that none of the NTTF knew about the situation, which... is weird. Weird, but normal. Normal as in the status quo. Since the department got a new Chair a few years ago, NTTF have not been included in any important dialogue or decisions, even ones that directly affect us (e.g., curriculum changes). Instead, we have to rely on rumors and/or information from a few of the NTTF-friendly TTFs, and then get admonished for bringing up things that we hear through the grapevine because our Chair "isn't big on rumors." (Which leads us to wonder: Is is "just a rumor" if it is actually true?) Anyway. Not that my hip ordeal is big news or even that important, but it is certainly just as important for NTTF to know as it is for TTF.

So, I took it upon myself to send out an e-mail to all the NTTF, as well as some of our staff, and because I can't help being snarky, I started it off as: I realized in the latest round of correspondence that C. had included only the tenure-track faculty (no comment), so I'm taking it upon myself to let you know what is going on. I immediately got a bunch of responses from people thanking me for letting them know what was happening. Not knowing what is going on, or only having a vague idea what is going on, from the grapevine we've been instructed not to listen to, is the NTTF's biggest complaint. I think we all understand that you can't always have it your way, and there are going to be things you don't like (such is life!) but geez, just let us know what's happening at least. As Dr. Evil in Austin Powers would say, "Throw me a frickin' bone here!"

And so it begins. Happy New Year!

Welcome to my world!

Classes start in four days. Needless to say, I am more than a little anxious about this. I am making a major change to my class this year - I am ditching the textbook - and to be honest, I'm sort of regretting my decision. I actually have quite a good history with this class considering it is a large, introductory course, so it's sort of stupid of me to change it up. And why should I care if students have to drop $240 on a textbook they won't use that much? That's their problem, not mine. I guess this is what happens when you get bored with your job - you start fixing things that ain't broke.

But of course my major concern is how my hip and leg are going to hold up. My classes are an hour and 15 minutes, so when you factor in getting to class and from class, getting set up, and talking to students after class, you have to figure it's a minimum of an hour and half standing. I have not even come close to being on my feet for an hour and a half. Not that I have even tried, seeing as how that is not good for my blood clot. I guess I've just been counting on adrenaline to help me get through this.

I mentioned to my physical therapist today that I have to teach in a classroom that is across campus from my office, so I'm worried I'll be spent by the time I get to class. I have not successfully walked across campus without a walking aid yet, but I am pretty dead set against using a walking aid once classes start. He asked if I could get a ride - you know, in one of those golf carts. HA HA! I thought he was joking, but he continued on and on for several minutes about how there must be a way for me to get a ride across campus, and seemed genuinely surprised when I told him that there was absolutely zero possibility of this happening. I guess this just goes to show how little the general public knows about the inner life of academia. Just the fact that he even thought it was a possibility that someone might give me a ride in a golf cart across campus so that I could save my energy to teach is absolutely hilarious.

This led to further discussion about how teaching at a university isn't as glamorous as some might think it is, and I further shocked him by telling him that I have to pay $620 for a parking pass, and even then you aren't guaranteed a parking spot. I told him I had to go to work after PT, and given that it was already about 10:30 AM, it would be VERY hard to find a parking spot. By midday... forget about it. He then started to tell me a story, but then sort of backtracked and said, "Nah, I probably shouldn't tell you this." I assured him that I would not be offended by a story criticizing the university; getting crapped on by at least one person a day is pretty much the story of my professional life.

My physical therapist is also a professional musician, which I knew. He said that he once had a gig at a very formal affair at the university, and of course, he couldn't find a parking spot. It also happened to be pouring rain, and he had to unload his stuff, so he made his own parking spot - sort of on the grass and out of the way. Then he went inside to set up all his stuff. However, someone then approached him and told him that the Chancellor had complained that his car was "blocking her" and that he needed to move it. So out he went, in the pouring rain, in a coat and tie, to move his car. Of course he had to park, like, half a mile away, and then hike back up in the rain to do his gig. By the time he got back, he was soaking wet. He said, sort of hesitantly, "Now, I know this woman might be a nice person and all..." to which I quickly replied, "No, she's not." So then he finished, "But I was not blocking her, and I feel like she made me move my car just because she could." I said that sounded about right. So then he went on to say that he was so ticked off that he made a point of going up her, soaking wet and dripping all over their fancy freaking carpet, just to tell her, "I just wanted to let you know that I moved my car for you." Her response? "Well, we could have lent you an umbrella!"

My therapist is extremely calm and mild-mannered and not a complaining type, and I could tell when he finished his story that he sort of regretted sharing it, as if I might be defensive about the woman in charge of my workplace. He looked at me sort of sheepishly when was done, and shrugged, as if to suggest that he wasn't trying to be overly critical. But I just looked back at him and said, "Welcome to my world."

"It's just work... just f*ck it."

I've been extraordinarily stressed about the upcoming semester. Part of this is normal pre-semester jitters, but a lot of it is due to the aftereffects of my hip surgery that I had earlier in the summer that have made me ridiculously unprepared. (You can read all about it on my other blog.) Now, I'm not going to lie, I never feel as prepared as I want to be at this point, but I really am ridiculously unprepared at this point. I'm also not going to lie and try to blame it all on my hip, as my motivation even before hip surgery was pretty much zero, and I actually worry that I'm using the surgery as a crutch (both literally and figuratively).

But anyway.

My husband noticed my stress this evening and commented on it. I replied that I was extremely stressed about work, for a multitude of reasons. His response was, "It's just work... just f*ck it." And trust me... I GET it. There are times when I do want to just f*ck it. In the large scheme of things, the stuff I have to deal with at work is small stuff, and it is not worth worrying about when that worry is robbing me of valuable, quality time with my family. But just f*cking it is much easier said than done, and I actually had a semi-epiphany tonight in response to my husband's suggestion.

I always try to produce quality work and set reasonably high standards for myself. At the same time, I am not a super duper ambitious go-getter, either. Obviously. As one of my fellow instructors pointed out to me today, "We are plain-bellied Sneetches." I am okay with a position of mediocrity, and I've done plenty of uninspired and mediocre work in my lifetime. But. I can't settle for mediocrity in my current position. For one, it is a mediocre job, and to be mediocre at a mediocre job is too much mediocrity for me. Also, I don't really know how to do my job in a mediocre fashion. For me, it's all or nothing. Some of this is probably because of the nature of my job; lecturing to large numbers of students and then trying to have in-depth conversations with them one-on-one during my office hours really goes against my introverted and somewhat anti-social personality. (As one student described me on my evaluations, I seem "distant and hateful.") I have to put on a completely different persona to do my job; I call it my teaching persona. On any given day, it's either on or it's off. There's not much in between. I just have to work for more on days than off days, because off days are a disaster, and too many off days could lead to me not even having a mediocre job to be mediocre at.

But the thing is... my inability to just f*ck it is more that this. What I realized today is that if I do not do my job well, ultimately, it is my students who will suffer. And I'm not okay with that. As bad as it may sound, I'm okay doing mediocre work for a mediocre boss who doesn't really value what I do. If it were simply a question of writing a report for some jerk who didn't really care about me, I'd be fine saying "just f*ck it" and turning in some BS crap like I did plenty of times in college (though admittedly, I'm a master when it comes to BS - no mediocrity there :)). Or, if I worked in a store... I would totally not have a problem not folding all the clothes neatly after customers messed with them, if I didn't feel like it. I understand the disgruntled workers at the DMV or at X, Y, Z other place who roll their eyes at you when you ask a question, and are totally not helpful - after all, what does it really matter? I even understand all the people who work in food service who say they spit in your food before they give it to you. I GET it.

At the same time, I have a really hard time purposely saying just f*ck it to students. Of course, some of them are complete jerks, and are a major contributing factor to why I want to quit my job on a daily basis, but the rational side of me knows that most of them are not, in fact, jerks. And it is the students who aren't jerks, with whom I make a personal connection, who make me see my job as something worthy of doing.

In my five years as full-time faculty at my school, I've had the honor of interacting with a variety of students. Most of them have a lot invested in their education. And I mean a lot. Many of them are first generation college students; some of them have gotten to college only by way of their entire extended families pooling their money for them, in hopes that one day they will not only be able to have a better life for themselves, but also provide a better life for their extended families. (That's a lot of pressure for an 18-year-old.) I also have a fair number of 20-somethings who joined the military straight out of high school because it was the only way they thought they could go to college. Now, in their late 20s, they have returned from war and have seen things I hope most people (including myself) won't see in their lifetimes. You better bet they are expecting a lot out of their education. I could go on and on about the stories I've heard, but the point is that it is simply not fair to these students if I just say f*ck it to my job. For the average student at my school, it is too much to ask of them to understand my anger over my salary (I'll save salary for a different entry), over my department's dysfunction, and over the unfairness of the university's policies. These things aren't their problem; they are simply trying to better themselves and their lives and the lives of their extended families. And they have extremely high expectations.

A while back, while waiting for my orthopedist, I had another semi-epiphany. I realized that, aside from the obvious fact that an orthopedist makes about $300-$400K/year more than I do, my job is a lot like an orthopedist's job. After suffering for about seven months with severe hip pain, and 15 years of on and off pain before that, I had really high expectations for my orthopedist. I can imagine that my students' expectations of me are similar to my own expectations of my orthopedist. We are desperately clinging to hope - the hope of things being better.

Hypothetically speaking... suppose my orthopedist were pissed off at his practice because he's bringing in a lot more money than he is being compensated for, or what if he were angry because he is working 60 hours a week for X salary, while his colleagues are working 40 hours a week for 2X salary? Or what if he were angry because he didn't get the respect he felt he deserved? Honestly, that's not my problem. When his practice bills me $180 for a three-minute visit, I don't care what issues he might be having with the practice; I still expect him to be able to tell me something I don't already know or to at least just refill my prescription already!

Orthopedists are obviously very busy, as am I. I never set out to be a crappy or mediocre instructor, but the reality is that I have many, many students and there is only one of me. Even with my reduced  50% course load, there will be 150 students and just one me. Unfortunately, some of them will fall through the cracks because it is not humanly possible for me to help all of these students in the way they may need helping. I am guessing it is the same with orthopedics. I don't think my orthopedist set out to be a crappy orthopedist, but just like some of my students, some of his patients will fall through the cracks, and at the moment, it seems as if I'm one of them.

Karma sure is a bitch.

"I'm not dead yet."

(That is from Monty Python and the Holy Grail, which is one of the best movies ever, in case you didn't get the reference. :))

Although it may appear that I have abandoned this blog after four posts, that is actually not the case. However, as I explained in my introduction, I started this blog as a continuation of my hip blog, because one hopes that there is finite lifespan for a blog about hip surgery and recovery. Unfortunately, I'm not quite at the end of it yet. In fact, I found out last Friday that I have a massive blood clot in my leg, extending from my proximal femoral vein through my popliteal vein and down into my calf. I was supposed to start teaching yesterday, as I teach a week-long pre-term course that meets from 8-5 for five days. An entire semester's worth of work in five days. Needless to say, this is not happening. Even if I could handle the discomfort of being on my feet this much, which is doubtful between my hip and the swelling in my leg from the blood clot, it would not be a smart decision health-wise. Fortunately my Chair was sympathetic to my doubts and agreed that I should absolutely not teach the course. We actually found a last-minute replacement, an adjunct, who was willing to step in for me. I met with him on Monday and gave him all of my course material, and I mean all of it. I'd normally feel fairly possessive about handing over all my stuff just like that, but I'm extremely grateful for what he is doing. I did have the option of canceling the class, but that can really screw students over, and contrary to what students think, I do not like to screw them over.

After the relief of not having to teach my week-long course, I was feeling pretty good about the upcoming semester. Unfortunately, the anticoagulant I am on to treat my clotting caused some massive bleeding, which gave / is giving me quite the scare. (You can read about it on my other blog if you want the TMI lowdown on all of this.) While my physical state is somewhat questionable, my mental state is even worse. And I cannot afford to start off this year in a bad mental state. I had a very difficult semester last spring, and looking back, a lot of it centered around the pain I was having from my hip that affected me in a very negative way, not to mention the pain medications I had to resort to from time to time that made me crazy. I don't think I even realized at the time just how much my hip pain was affecting me. So I decided to have surgery over the summer and was looking forward to a fresh and pain free start this fall. This is not happening.

After gathering opinions, from medical professionals and loved ones ( = people who actually care if I live to see another day), and extensive consideration of different options, I decided to request a reduced teaching load this semester. This would mean I'm only teaching two sections of one course, and in addition to the week-long course I already gave up, I would give up a second course. Fortunately, my Chair has been extremely supportive of this idea, and we're trying to work out the details even as I write this. This is probably happening. I am trying very hard not to second guess my decision, but it is a fairly big one with some potentially large consequences. The first is that this obviously affects me and my family financially. The second is the possible effect this may have on me professionally. One of my strengths as an instructor (and there are only a few, lol) is that I teach a variety of courses - even more than most instructors. This makes it more difficult to replace me, which is a good thing for me when I make waves in the department and the TTF just want me to Go Away Already. Not that I consider myself a troublemaker, but growing up, my mom taught me to speak my mind when I feel something is unfair, and there are a lot of things I feel are unfair about my job, and I usually let someone know about them. The Chair, while hugely supportive of me in many ways, does NOT deal well with instructors speaking their minds. I think his strategy - whether conscious or subconscious - is to keep instructors happy by being supportive of us in a lot of ways (e.g., buying us new computers, giving us money to pay graders for our huge classes, accommodating requests for reduced teaching loads, etc.), and hoping that is enough to make us not rebel against some of the larger things (e.g., exclusion from all important departmental affairs such as curriculum decisions and hiring, including the hiring of NTTF). Due to various things that have happened over the past few years, I've now worked myself into a corner where the diversity of courses that I teach is no greater than any of the other instructors, which does make my stock go down a little. Not that I think anyone is out to get rid of me, at least not imminently, but in these uncertain times it's a good idea to have as many protective layers as possible in place, and some of mine are wearing away. Generally speaking, it's not a good thing if your job duties can be done by an adjunct; not only are you replaceable, but you are also replaceable for a much lower cost. And trust me, the university cares very much about its bottom line.

Regardless, I think this is the right decision - for myself, my health, and for my family. It is going to change the landscape of my semester dramatically, but hopefully in a good way. If nothing else, it will give me more time to blog. :)

How to Become a College Instructor

A lot of my students seek career advice from me, which falls into the category of Things I Am 0% Qualified To Give Advice About. Somehow I feel if I had good career advice, I'd have a better career myself. LOL. On the other hand, it is a logical conclusion that as a faculty member in biology, I might have insight as to what a person can do with a degree in biology, so I usually pretend like I know something.

Occasionally, my students will ask me what it would take to have my job. I reply that they would have to kill me and assume my identity (which is some cases might involve a sex-change operation). Then they clarify that they don't literally want my job; they just want a job like mine. Then I tell them, Oh no, trust me, you don't. Now, as I've already established, there are a lot of great things about my job - in case you missed it, see 10 Best Things About My Job. However, the thing about being an instructor is that there is no clearly defined path to becoming a full-time instructor.

There is a clearly defined path to becoming a K-12 teacher, and there is a clearly defined path to becoming a professor, but there is no clearly defined path to becoming an instructor. On a side note, contrary to what a lot of students believe, there is practically no overlap between the path to becoming college faculty and the path to becoming a K-12 teacher. I can't tell you how many students I have who tell me they want to teach K-12 for a while, then get a Ph.D. and teach at a college. But that isn't how it usually works; K-12 and college are completely different career paths, just like being a nurse isn't a stepping stone toward becoming a doctor.

So back to my original point. To become a professor, you need to go to graduate school and complete a Ph.D., then you apply for open positions in your field. To be an instructor, you usually need at least a master's degree; however, full-time instructor positions are few and far between and generally pay very poorly, so you'd be a fool to get a master's degree with the sole hope of trying to land a full-time instructorship. Some schools don't even have permanent instructors, instead relying on teaching assistants (current graduate students) and adjuncts to fulfill the roles of instructors. Also, the market is so saturated with Ph.D.s who cannot find tenure-track positions, many are willing to take non-tenure-track positions. This is especially the case when you consider the two-body problem, which is becoming more and more common. The two-body problem refers to the fact that many couples meet in graduate school, oftentimes as part of the same program. When they complete grad school, there are two people in a single household with Ph.D.s, often in the same field or even sub-field, which makes it very unlikely they will both land a tenure-track position in the same geographic area. Oftentimes the "trailing spouse" will take an instructor position, and sometimes instructor positions are even pieced together for the sole purpose of offering them to a spouse (since instructor positions are easier to conjure than tenure-track positions).

Thus, the population of full-time instructors is not a cohesive bunch of folks who all followed the same path to end up where they did. Some full-time instructors are people who were in the right place at the right time and got sort of lucky (like me) and some are people who have a Ph.D. but are resigned, for whatever reason, to not having a tenure-track position. And then there is a transient population of full-time instructors, who are just instructing until they get a better gig. On a related note, I should add that a person with a Ph.D. does not necessarily have an advantage over a person with just a master's degree when applying for an instructor position. On the one hand, some people figure that if you can get a person with a Ph.D. for the price of an instructor, why not go for it? On the other hand, the assumption is that a person with a Ph.D. will keeping looking for a better job, as virtually no one goes through 5+ years of graduate school with the ultimate goal of landing a full-time instructor position. In schools who value keeping faculty long-term, having a Ph.D. can actually be a disadvantage, unless it is known that the person with a Ph.D. is a trailing spouse and therefore likely to stay in the area, or the person is too many years out from completing a Ph.D. and is unlikely to ever get a tenure-track position. (There seems to be an unofficial time limit that says once you've completed your Ph.D., you should get a tenure-track position within a "reasonable" number of years, and every year that goes by past this unofficial time limit, you become less and less competitive in the academic job market.) Speculation about a person's intentions and personal situation are often a topic of intense discussion during the hiring process.

So how did I get here? Students often want to know my story, and I give them the abridged version. I wasn't a biology major in college, but after I graduated from college I decided that I wanted to go to med school. I started to take the prerequisites for medical school, and while medical school never happened for me, for reasons I won't go into here (it's not interesting anyway), I discovered that I really like biology. I went on to grad school in biology, and while I did not enjoy research, I really enjoyed teaching. Then I got this job. And here I am. And while in many ways I'm lucky to be here, it has a been a long and convoluted journey that I would not recommend to even my least favorite students.

10 Best Things About My Job

I'm probably going to complain a lot here, so I don't want you to get the wrong idea about me. First off, I want to say that I have a great life, and as much as I may rant about particular aspects of my life, I feel intense gratitude at least several times every day for everything I have. I am lucky.

I also want to add that there are many things I love about my job, so I thought this would be a good way to start. Thus, I've composed a list of the 10 Best Things About My Job, and I mean these very sincerely. Of course, I could easily compose a counterpart 10 Worst Things About My Job as well, but I'm sure you'll figure those out pretty quickly as the school year gets under way.

1. I have a lot of flexibility. Aside from the times when I am teaching, I can pretty much do what I want. And I even have some flexibility when scheduling the meeting times for my classes.

2. I have a lot of vacation. It goes without saying. And it's not just summers off, but also a month in December/January as well. I am aware that this is a privilege. Of course, I am on a 9-month contract, so it's not actual paid vacation; however, I know plenty of people who would work for 9/12 of their salary in exchange for three months of time off, but that just isn't possible in most jobs.

3. I generally enjoy giving lectures. I enjoy the process of putting them together, making fun PowerPoint slides, and looking for interesting graphics on the Web. I think I'm pretty good at it, too. Students compliment me on my PowerPoints and laugh at my jokes. I am not a naturally outgoing person, so it's surprising that this would be the aspect of my job I like the most. Even after five years, I still feel slightly nauseous before each lecture, but it is usually in a good way. When I was an athlete in a former life, I used to feel nauseous before competitions: the more stressed I was, the better I did, and the happier I was when I was done. I think there's some of the same thing going on now.

4. I really enjoy a lot of my students. I have some really amazing students who are going to go on to do great things. I am honored to have been a part of their lives, and hope they will remember me the way I remember all my favorite teachers from the past. I also have a lot of not so amazing students who will most likely not go on to do great things, but who are perfectly lovely human beings nonetheless. And I'm also honored to have been a part of their lives, and hope they will remember me the way I remember all my favorite teachers from the past.

5. I enjoy being a role model. It is the narcissist in me. It also forces me to be at my best when I don't necessarily feel like being at my best. My job is also a lot of counseling. I enjoy that, too, as long as it's not an extreme case. (You'll undoubtedly hear about some extreme cases this year; I have some every year.) A lot of my students look up to me and ask me for advice about all sorts of things not related to biology. Some of the things students ask me about are things I am 100% not qualified to talk about with any authority, lol (I always tell them when this is the case). However, they usually just want to talk, and for someone to listen. I am a good listener. And I enjoy listening.

6. I have a really nice office. Like, really nice. I know I'm lucky. My office is nicer than the offices of many tenure-track faculty at my school, some of whom have to share offices. My office is nicer than that of most faculty at most schools across the U.S. It's unlikely that I'll ever have a nicer office in my lifetime, no matter what area I work in. I know it's somewhat superficial to cherish an office, and my office is certainly not a huge factor in any future decisions I make, but I do think it is important to my productivity to have an inspirational work space. And every time I'm in my office, I'm thankful that I have it.

7. I have some really great colleagues. It's hard for me to imagine another place where I'd have so many other good colleagues, at least not in this town. Of course, there are some not so good colleagues, which I'm sure you'll get tired of hearing about, but the ratio of good colleagues to bad colleagues is pretty good in the large scheme of things.

8. My job is generally well-respected. Not that what people think of what I do should matter that much, but... it does. Again, it is the narcissist in me. Whether or not people know I'm an instructor as opposed to a professor, when I tell them I teach biology at ABC College, the usual reaction is to think that's a pretty cool job, which is sort of is. At any rate, my job is never a conversation stopper.

9. I enjoy being part of the campus community. I think college campuses provide a sense of community that you just don't find in most other work environments. I have always worked on college campuses, so it's hard for me to imagine working elsewhere. Maybe it's like the people in jail who become "institutionalized." LOL.

10. My school is growing very quickly, and it's actually sort of exciting, like being a part of a start up you just know is going to be big someday. In the future, there may be many more opportunities for me to do cooler things and grow professionally. This struck me the other day as I was driving back from physical therapy and decided to pick my son up from the university daycare on my way home. There was a major traffic jam on the freeway, so I got off an exit earlier than usual. Unfortunately, everyone else had the same idea, so instead of being stuck in traffic on the freeway, I was stuck in traffic on University Avenue. I would normally drive quite fast down University Avenue, as it is technically not part of the university, it's just a big, huge busy street that runs past it. However, sitting in traffic moving at the rate of three blocks in 45 minutes, I noticed that there were signs all over announcing that we were entering university territory, and there flowers in the median, and there were strips of unused land just waiting to be developed by the university. I have no doubt that within the next five years or so, those empty strips will be full of university buildings. I know for a fact this is the Chancellor's vision. So while my job feels pretty dead end right now, it might lead to something better, if I can just hang on.

Reading this, I'm sure you are wondering who in their right mind would leave such a job. Sometimes I wonder the same thing. But I assure you that if you stick with me for a year of Adventures Of A College Instructor, you might start having your doubts, too.

The Academic Pecking Order

The first thing I would like to do is explain the title of my blog: Don't Call me Professor.

When I tell people that I teach at a university, they assume I am a professor. It is not an unreasonable assumption, but I am not, in fact, a professor. The other day at physical therapy, the PT assistant working with me asked me what I did for a living. I told him I teach at ABC College. He replied, "Aren't you a little young to be a college teacher?" Huh? I paused while trying to think of how to respond, then I just jokingly said, "I'm a lot older than I look" (which is actually true, although even if he thought I was 13 years younger than I actually am, I would still not be "too young" to be a "college teacher"). Now, this PTA is not an idiot, and he's actually an amazing PTA, so this just made me realize how little the general public understands about academia.

Generally speaking, and I should add that all of what I'm about to say is generally speaking, there are two types of teaching jobs at colleges and universities: tenure-track jobs and non tenure-track jobs. Faculty are divided into two major groups: tenure-track faculty (TTF) and non-tenure-track faculty (NTTF). With few exceptions, almost all TTF have terminal degrees in their fields. A terminal degree is the highest degree you can have in a particular field, which for most academic fields is a doctorate/Ph.D. NTTF may or may not have a terminal degree. Many NTTF positions only require a master's degree, although it is not uncommon for a person with a Ph.D. to hold a non-tenure-track position, as academic jobs can be hard to come by.

If you are TTF, you can either be an assistant professor, an associate professor, or a full professor. You start as an assistant professor, which means you don't have tenure yet, but getting tenure is a possibility (hence why you are tenure-track). Tenure requirements vary by school, discipline, and even department, but generally require you to prove that you are a competent teacher, publish research, and do "service," such as serving on committees, for your school. Getting tenure basically means you have job stability for the rest of your life unless the school gets rid of your whole department, or you, like, kill someone and go to jail. (Sleeping with students is okay, though.) The idea behind tenure is that you can't get fired for spewing crazy left-wing communist beliefs, as everyone knows all academics like to do. LOL. If you get tenure, you become an associate professor. If you don't get tenure, you're pretty much screwed. Of course, you can always try to apply for a job at a different school, but that isn't as easy at it sounds. The highest status you can achieve is that of full professor, or just "professor." Meaning, if someone's job title is simply "professor," they are a full professor, assuming they aren't embellishing their resume. Achieving full professor status requires additional achievements, which again, vary greatly. It is also worth mentioning that plenty of perfectly decent and accomplished academics end their careers as associate professors.

I do not believe the distinction between assistant, associate, and full professor is well understood outside of academic circles. If I were at a party and someone told me she was a professor, I wouldn't consider it a lie even if she wasn't a full professor. Outside of academia, "professor" covers all levels of tenure-track positions. When I went to college, I certainly wasn't aware of these discrepancies. In fact, I once mentioned to my mom that my professor wasn't a real professor; she was only an assistant! My mom had to explain to me that "assistant professor" (not to be confused with a "teaching assistant") just means someone doesn't have tenure, which doesn't mean they are incompetent; more likely, it just means they are young (although it is possible they are incompetent as well). The funny thing about this is that my father is actually a professor. Of course, throughout my lifetime, he has made the full progression through the tenure-track - from assistant to associate to full professor, although I always just told everyone he was a "professor." So, little did I know despite growing up the daughter of an academic. 

While the differences between the levels within the tenure-track are not trivial, there is an even bigger difference between the tenure-track and the non-tenure-track. This is also a difference that does not seem to be at all well understood by the general public. Non-tenure-track faculty, NTTF, are called instructors or lecturers, and can be full-time, part-time, or adjuncts. Generally speaking, while TTF teach and do research, NTTF just teach. By "just teach," I mean they usually do not do research or have to publish, although they may have non-teaching duties, depending on their job descriptions. As a whole, NTTF have less job stability, are paid much less than TTF, and have a lesser-than status within their departments.

I am a full-time instructor. At my school, TTF are usually expected to teach a 3/2 load, meaning that in a given year they teach 3 courses one semester and 2 courses the other semester. Full-time NTTF have to teach 12 credit hours per semester, which in most cases translates into a 4/4 load, or 4 courses per semester. These are usually the large, introductory-level courses, or in the case of the sciences, the lab component of courses.

Of course, there are different levels within NTTF as well. As a full-time NTTF, the one promotion I can receive is from "instructor" to "senior instructor," which I'm actually eligible for this year. We'll see how that turns out. This has little implication for me other than a $3,000 or so a year pay raise. Although I'm on a yearly contract, my position is considered "permanent," so as long as I do a decent job, I have reasonable job stability. Full-time NTTF also get the same benefits as TTF, just not the same pay. 

So back to the title of this blog.

As far as college faculty go, the people who have it the worst are the adjuncts. Adjuncts are temporary faculty hired on an "as needed" basis, semester-by-semester, to teach courses. They are generally very poorly paid, have little job stability, and probably most importantly, do not usually receive benefits. A lot of permanent, full-time faculty, TTF and NTTF alike, have been adjuncts at one point in their careers, but it is not a sustainable way to make a living for yourself long-term. Now, there are some adjuncts who like being adjuncts, and this is usually because they have a spouse with a good job and just want to work part-time, or they are retired from another job and still want to work a little, or they have another day job and just enjoy "teaching on the side" at the university. For example, one of my colleagues is a chiropractor and has flexible hours, and enjoys teaching anatomy labs here and there. However, most adjuncts do not fit into this category, and the majority would be full-time permanent if they could be. Many adjuncts are highly educated and highly trained individuals, with Ph.D.s and post-docs, who are adjuncting until they find a permanent position.

The problem is that these highly desired permanent positions within academia are not keeping pace with the increases in demand for higher education. This is has actually been getting some attention recently, as there is a lot of talk these days about the "adjunctification" or "Walmart-ization" of higher education. It is not difficult to find articles documenting the alarming trend toward hiring more and more instructors as opposed to professors. As an instructor, I take some exception to the idea that we should be alarmed that, gasp, people like myself are allowed to teach at a university. I am good at my job, and I think I teach introductory biology just as well as anyone with a Ph.D. and three post-docs can, maybe even better. Instructors just have different roles than professors; it is like a physician assistant versus an orthopedic surgeon. My PA is perfectly capable of performing an awesome pap smear (LOL), but when I need to have two holes cut through my hip and an anchor stuck into my hip bone to repair torn cartilage, I'd prefer that a person with 4 years of med school and 5 years of residency and 2 years of fellowships do it.

At the same time, I get it. I don't think the fundamental argument is that instructors are incapable, just that colleges and universities need to make a bigger commitment to hiring more full-time, permanent faculty, particularly within the tenure-track. Of course, a major issue is that instructors are cheap labor, much cheaper than professors. They teach more classes with more students and are paid less. Adjuncts are the cheapest, as they are paid less than full-time permanent instructors and usually do not receive benefits.

I recently read a few articles (e.g., here and here) about how adjuncts at the City University of New York now include a line in their course syllabi that says, To ensure that we remain conscious of the adjunctification of CUNY, we ask that you do not call us 'Professor', which is what gave me the idea for the name of my blog. Admittedly, I have a much better situation than an adjunct. Nevertheless, I am not a professor, something I am reminded of every day when I go to work.

Non-professor faculty such as myself are becoming more and more common. When you tell someone you teach at a university, the immediate image that pops to mind is that of a pretentious and overpaid academic who spouts esoteric bullshit that only a few other people in the world are brilliant enough to understand. That is most certainly not me. I'd argue that that is not actually 99.5% of tenured, full professors, but we'll save that for another day. But along those lines, I want to add here that I do not want to be a professor, so my unhappiness with my job is not because I am not a professor. Professors have a lot of responsibilities that instructors do not, and particularly in the sciences, a person with a Ph.D. and several post docs has education, training, and skills far beyond that of a person like me, who barely managed to finish her master's.

On a final note, for obvious reasons, I am not going to use my real name, or anyone's real name, here. For myself, I am going to stick with a name that has worked well for me online: Waning Moon. (Maybe someday I'll blog about the name. :)) For everyone else in my life, I'll just make it up as I go along. At any rate, my students, out of respect, often want to call me "Professor Moon" or "Dr. Moon," and since I am neither, I always ask them to just call me Waning. If they are not okay with this, I tell them they can call me Ms. Moon. Then I tell them the story about how one of my boyfriends in high school insisted on calling my father Mr. Moon, instead of Crescent, which is what my dad has always preferred to be called despite being both a "professor" and a "doctor." Finally, one day my dad told my boyfriend, "If you call me Mr. Moon one more time, I am going to punch you." LOL, poor boyfriend. But it does illustrate how I was reared and where some of my attitudes come from.

So in addition to this being a brief lesson in academic hierarchies, let this also serve as my introduction to you. Don't call me professor, please just call me Waning.

A Blog is Born

Just what this world needs - more blogs, right? Well, better too many blogs than too many other things... like... bombs or Ebola virus. That's just my opinion, though.

Speaking of opinions, I have a lot of them, some of which I will inevitably share here. Although, truth be told, I am not a shove-my-opinions down your throat type of person. This is not actually a blog about my opinions, which I'm sure most people couldn't care less about.

So what brings me here? Here is the thing: I love to write more than almost anything in the world. I have loved to write since, like, forever. I've kept a journal ever since I got my first diary when I was in fifth grade. I am now 39, in case you couldn't tell from my username. :) A few weeks ago, I started a blog about my hip surgery, because I was semi-laid up for a while (and still sort of am), and because I was reading a lot of other blogs about hip surgery and thought that the world needed another blog about hip surgery. LOL. Regardless, blogging has been fun. I suspect that's why so many people do it - it's fun.

The problem about having a hip blog is that I sincerely hope that in a few more weeks, I will not have much to say about my hip. The expected recovery time for my hip surgery is three months, and is has almost been one month. In two days, I get to start weaning off my crutches. In 11 days, I have to start teaching again. If my hip is still giving me enough material to maintain a hip blog once I start teaching again, I am in big trouble. I struggle enough with teaching already.

I struggle enough with teaching already.  

Wait. That sounds like the perfect subject for a blog, right? 

And actually, this is going to be a defining year for me in terms of my job. I will be going into my sixth year as a full-time faculty member at an undisclosed university (undisclosed for obvious reasons). I teach biology. My relationship with my job is complicated; it is a total love/hate relationship, with not much in between. Over the past year and a half, it has become far more hate than love, to the point where I don't know if I can do this anymore. And I need to decide on a direction for my future. Soon. On the one hand, I am "only" 39, soon to be 40. This means that if I am lucky enough to live and work until traditional retirement age, I have 25 more years of work ahead of me. 25 years is a long time. While there are many great aspects to my job, which I will write about in the future, I often find myself wondering if I can really do it for 25 more years. On the other hand, 39 is not that young. It is old enough that going back to school to prepare for a different career is not a decision to be taken lightly. I also have a husband and two young children - ages almost 9 and almost 3. Thus, decisions centered around my job are not All About Me.

So, just as I am going to start weaning myself off crutches on Monday, I also need to start weaning myself off blogging about my hip. However, I have another journey to write about, and it will also be a "recovery" of sorts. Truth be told, I am looking forward to it, and I'll consider it my emotional therapy. For one, writing helps me express things that I can't even compile into coherent thoughts in my own mind. Also, I am not trying to be all "woe is me" - that's never my intent - but I will say that I have been dreading this upcoming year like I've dreaded very few things ever before, including hip surgery. (In fact, hip surgery was a good distraction from my work stress.) Perhaps by blogging about it, I will see my job as an experience to be written about, rather than a daily exercise in Banging My Head Against A Brick Wall. After all, the things that make you bang your head against a brick wall usually make the most entertaining stories. Perhaps blogging will help me see my job from a new perspective, for better or for worse. It's also possible none of these things will happen, but there's only one way to find out.

If you are reading this, thank you for joining me as I navigate through the complexities of life in academia for another year. And who knows - maybe you will even learn a little bit about biology as we go along. :)