The paperwork is signed and submitted, an apartment has been secured, and the ball is in motion: I will be a visiting professor for the 2019-2020 school year.
Get a terminal degree, get a job, right? Not so fast. The higher education job market is tight. If your degree is in the humanities, well, best of luck.
Hope springs eternal in the new PhD breast, and so we submit applications and CVs and bombard our committees with requests for reference letters. Sometimes people find a position quickly, but sometimes the search for gainful (and tenure track) employment is a long and discouraging journey.
I am in an unusual position. Yes, I want a position at a university teaching teachers. I think my experience with my research means I have a lot to offer. I also need to start paying off the the student loans I accumulated in six years of graduate school. It’s not a lot by some standards, but it’s more than I like and I’d prefer to get them paid off within two years rather than pay out that interest for five. However, my potential income is bonus income for our family. Our daughters are working adults, my husband’s salary covers all our basic needs, including healthcare, and we have a plan for retirement. I am blessed, and I know it.
Our living situation means I can afford to wait for the right job, rather than take the first offer, no matter when it comes. I’ve had a couple of great interviews, and at least one near miss that let me know I will be an asset wherever I land. Those are the high points. It’s quite satisfying to be in a position to ask the right questions and give the honest answers about how my work fits with education department needs. I’ve enjoyed good give-and-take, some fun personality connections, and new ideas and resources to consider. The process has been educative, to say the least.
On the other hand, it is almost July and I don’t know where I’ll land when school begins in August. Maybe I’ll have a contract for a year. Maybe a tenure track position will open up. Maybe the unexpected will happen. It’s been disappointing when potential contracts fall through for one reason or another. I’m not discouraged, because I’ve learned something valuable each step along the way. The right position in the right place will reveal itself at the right time.
While I wait, I’ll keep learning. I’ll keep submitting proposals and articles. I’ll start taking apart my dissertation for pieces that could be published. I will develop potential classes to teach. Maybe I’ll start a vlog. Maybe I’ll start writing the book I want to write. Hopefully I can do some part-time work to start paying on those pesky student loans. I know one thing for sure. For the first time in six years, I will not be a student in a classroom. And for now, that’s its own reward.
A four-year journey, a nearly 300-page dissertation, late nights, reading until my eyes gave out, and writing until I had calluses on my fingertips culminated with commencement ceremonies on May 6, 2019. How do I feel? Read the rest of this entry
Vitriol. Division. Self. Tribalism. Hate.
This world can be so ugly.
This weekend I had the honor and the joy to sing with a marvelous group of musicians of all ethnicities, ages, religions, and political affiliations in a concert of unity, healing, and overcoming. I am emotionally spent in the best possible way. There is still hope for this human race.
I came to work today exhausted, but happy. I usually work from home on Mondays, but I switched days this week. I’m glad I did. I’ve been working as a prospective student advisor for three years now. I have counseled more people than I can count, but there are a few who stand out. One such standout was M, a medical doctor from Romania who could find no work in the U.S. wherein she could use her considerable skills to do good in her community. She came in frustrated and discouraged, wondering whether she had any opportunities left. Our program prove to be a perfect fit for her, and I was able to encourage her to apply for both the master’s degree and for a grant that would pay her tuition. She was accepted to both. I saw her periodically over the next months. GSU’s certification and master’s degree is a grueling program. As a result, our graduates are prepared for the classroom and our five-year retention rate is nearly double the national average. I watched M struggle with the load, but I knew she would finish what she started. Today she celebrated completion of the program and has her choice of job opportunities.
Many students I counseled have completed the degree, but M came to my office with a sweet bouquet of flowers and a few words of thanks.
She talked about how she had grown through the program and how her confidence was restored and how she looked forward to her future with hope. She thanked me for seeing past her frustration and disappointment and helping her get started on the journey to teaching. It was a ten minute chat and a few flowers that showed me again that there is always hope.
Yes, I was just doing my job 16 months ago when M first stepped into my office. And as jobs in academia go, this graduate assistantship is not one that requires special skills or an advanced degree. I am grateful that this position covers my tuition and allows me to pursue my PhD without accruing additional debt. But I am not special in this job. I have very little authority and I make no decisions about enrollment, curriculum, admissions, or programs of study. What I can do, and what I strive to do, is to do my job here with excellence. I want potential students to feel welcomed, supported, and valued. When M came to visit today, I saw that my attitude toward my work made a difference in her life. Her visit also demonstrated that I am in this work for a reason, and that how I approach the seemingly insignificant days affects people in ways I may never know.
In the last three days I have seen hope for humanity in big ways and small. Large gestures that include groups of people promoting unity and healing illustrate hopefulness. A little bouquet of flowers in thanks also validates my hopefulness. In both cases, I feel like a very small actor in the play of life. I am here for such a time as this.
Yes, yes, yes!!!! A post by Dr. Peter Smagorinsky that articulates just how I feel (pun intended).
My summer began with preparation for and writing my comprehensive exams, a step down the Ph.D. road. For the most part, I think I represented myself well in how much I have learned about teaching literature and composition. I may have taught my advisor a couple of things about remix. And I learned I still have plenty to discover before this journey is over.
In July I tried to not think about education. I spent some time at the beach to refill my soul. As a California native, I breathe in time with the tide and extended periods away from the ocean affect me to my bone marrow. It had been a long two years since my last trip, and the moment I smelled the salt air I felt a weight lift from my shoulders. Minimal computer access, limited social media, no television or radio for five days meant a true respite.
And then I came home.
The level of discord about pretty much everything seemed greater than before my hiatus. Politics, education, and even how best to get from the northern suburbs to the airport were not discussed but argued. I read more “I have a right to my opinion” in the last couple of weeks than anything else. No one was listening. A lot of people opted for the ad hominem instead of choosing discourse.
How are we to function as a society if being right is the only thing that matters? And who determines what or who is right? The loudest voice? The cleverest snarky comeback? And what about treating others as individuals rather than part of some collective liberal, progressive, conservative Borg Hive where “resistance is futile?” I certainly don’t care to be assimilated into a movement where my individuality is stripped from me and added to the collective. From where I sit, I am beginning to fear that resistance may well be futile.
Education is a prime example of what I mean. Public schools, begun to ensure that every child had access to basic skills (reading, ‘riting, and ‘rithmatic), have morphed into giant hives of busy activities about social justice, equity of outcome, high stakes testing preparation, and some-are-more-equal-than-others protests. Do these things matter? OF COURSE. With the exception of equity of outcome, society needs to be concerned with social justice (as in, treating all humans with dignity and respect according to the law) and boosting those who, for whatever reason, need extra attention in order to have equal opportunity to succeed. Frankly, equity of outcome benefits no one and is the educational equivalent to the Borg Hive. Each individual has different strengths and weaknesses; those strengths should be encouraged and the weaknesses mitigated without trying to make everyone the same. We aren’t.
Respect, opportunity, and justice can all be accomplished without sacrificing individuality and without creating villains of particular groups of people. This goes for both ends of the political spectrum. Not all conservatives think alike. There are, in fact, degrees. Not all liberals believe in lockstep harmony. Most people have opinions that cross political and social lines. The key to understanding is more knowledge, more story, more humanity, not less.
The publishing company executives that seem to rule education find quantitative data compelling. Politicians require donations from companies that are also driven by quantitative data. But, in the last 50 years, quantitative data has failed to lead to programs that make public schools more effective in any of the 3 Rs or the social initiatives attempted. More high stakes testing and punitive teacher assessment are not going to make our students better problem-solvers, better communicators, or better collaborators. Nor will it encourage the best and the brightest among adults to choose teachings. (This is one of those dilemmas faced when equality of outcome is the goal. If every outcome is the same, why do schools want exceptional teachers?)
The boom in homeschooling, charter, and private schools is evidence that parents want individualized, differentiated, and excellent education for their children. Those who have the means (like most DC politicians) take their students out of public schools because scripted and data-driven public schools no longer meet those needs. Many school districts do try to break out of the mandates handed down from on high–and there are lots of teachers at every level who bend over backward to bring out the best in their students. But those exceptional teachers are tired. And burned out. Undervalued and underappreciated in a system that rewards sameness, these teachers are leaving. Some are headed to private or charter schools. Others try consulting or professional development– or go back to college for advanced degrees. Others leave education altogether.
Something has to give.
I believe it begins by listening. Communities must listen to the teachers explain how they may be best supported. Teachers listen to parents about the needs of students. Parents listen to teachers about how they can help their children push through challenges. Administrators and superintendents listen to the studies based on qualitative data. Everyone listens to the exceptional teachers whose students are excited about learning. Districts focus on the teachers and students in their own classrooms rather than test scores from places too geographically and demographically different to be a fair comparison. Bring in literature from all the cultures represented by local transnational students. Showcase the unusual attributes of artists, inventors, athletes, and musicians. Give students real audiences for their accomplishments, not delayed feedback on a multiple choice exam.
Listening is a place to begin. Not listening for ideas to argue against, but deeply, truly listening to hear the point of view from another uniquely capable human being. We are not all the same, but we can treat each other as equals.
My house, too-minus the children.
Source: Why Teachers Suck …
I am tangled in comprehensive exams at the moment, but THIS needs to be read, shared, and shouted from the mountaintops.
Facebook is an interesting space for thinkers. My Facebook use is primarily for connecting to family, mindless entertainment, and, if I’m honest, procrastination. Yesterday morning, however, two stories appeared together that both intrigued and startled me.
The first story was a short video from ATTN: Life. It decried a generation of adults who can’t boil an egg (30%), change a tire (52%), or sew on a button (70%). The proposed solution? “Bring back cooking classes.” I never figured out how cooking classes ever gave instruction on changing a tire, but that became a minor thought after reading some of the more than 3000 comments. Two themes divided commenters: these skills should be taught at home and parents don’t have time, so these skills should be taught at school. One commenter even said that the school system is outdated and that schools should change to meet “needs in the modern day.” I’m reasonably certain that home economics, secretarial skills, and vocational education are products of the past abandoned in the 1980s in favor of higher cognitive skills that can be measured on high stakes, multiple choice exams. Or, as another commentator said, “A lot of young people don’t know how to fill out basic paperwork at a doctor’s office, file taxes, and cook, but god forbid we don’t know the Pythagorean theorem.”
The second story was a psychological look at the emotional fragility of college students. Seemingly unrelated to the first, it actually illustrated exactly why secondary schools no longer include the life skills classes that will evidently solve all the #adulting problems of the first story. Additionally, it describes the challenges many young adults face, challenges that far exceed the inability to boil an egg. In this article, the author, Dr. Peter Gray, interviewed teachers, professors, employers, parents, and students, trying to discern the source of what he called, “the declining emotional resilience of college students.”
He found that secondary and primary teachers often pointed to the interference of parents who demanded to know all the details of assignments and rubric, expecting their children to excel regardless of aptitude. Teachers also held administrators who pressure teachers to pass students no matter the amount of work accomplished in order to maintain the reputation of the school. Teachers, then, feel they are held hostage to unrealistic expectations of both parents and administrators. They feel compelled to award grades based on those negotiations, rather than the progress of the student. Those grades, then, set the student up for discouragement when they go to college, believing their efforts sufficient for high grades.
Professors also blame unearned high grades for student underachievement and subsequent frustration with the reality of merit-based grading systems. Professors explained that students expected unlimited opportunities to retake exams, rewrite papers, request explicit instructions and detailed rubrics, along with extra credit opportunities. The end result, according to these professors, is a group of students who can spout facts but cannot think for themselves or accept constructive feedback. One college counselor said, ” [T] oo many students had never had a job, needed to balance a checkbook, or any of that until college or even after college. Their parents did it all…You can’t teach life skills in a class.”
Employers complained of young adults who believed they did not need constructive criticism or that their degrees automatically meant they deserved promotions and higher pay. Poor evaluations were often blamed on employers not giving adequate instruction, a reflection of the need for a detailed rubric. An HR director said, “It appears the handholding by helicopter parents and our educational system has made it problematic for our youth to ‘attempt’ to hold onto jobs. Most believe all they have to do is ‘Get the job.'” Employers tell of young employees so resistant to mentoring or coaching that they file HR complaints about constructive criticisms they take as personal attacks.
Parents and students both blamed social pressure and the economy for the lack of emotional resilience. Parents cite the increasing cost of college, the competitive requirements of extracurricular activities in high school (taken in order to gain scholarships to college), and a perceived requirement of employers for perfect transcripts. Students, in general, pointed to all adults as sharing responsibility for their inadequacies in #adulting.
In a sense, I think each point in both articles has merit. The vicious cycle of blame, however, will not resolve any of the problems, real or perceived. As I see it, we as a society need to decide what we want schools to do. Is it reasonable to expect all teens to gravitate toward college and the white-collar employment that follows it? Are colleges so competitive that only grade point averages and test scores matter for entrance? If that is the case, then secondary schools must push for academic achievement for all. The question about how to do that better is for another time. However, is college and business right for every student? Is there a place for honoring the trades as vital parts of our economy? Have we, as a society, fallen into the trap of believing only office jobs in corporate America or positions in a STEM field are worthy pursuits? If we have, then who will boil the eggs, change the tires, or sew on missing buttons?
I think, and I suspect research would back me up, that students should be encouraged to pursue, not college, but their interests from early in their secondary education. There will be those whose aptitudes will be for the STEM fields or business models or careers that require extended years of study. Those are the students colleges should be courting. There are also students whose talents lead them in vocational directions, where trade schools or apprenticeships would be both more appropriate and more enjoyable. We need fewer tests of Pythagoras and more opportunities to explore creative or mechanical or exploratory options. As a culture, we are all part of the problem because we value showy achievements instead of joy. When was the last time a parent or a teacher proclaimed pride in a teen’s ability to rebuild a car or replace a faucet or wire a lamp? How often do we adults brag on the student who spends hours not playing online games, but building them? Until teens feel validated for pursuing their passions, they will continue to succumb to the pressure of a society that rewards data points, high salaries, and prestige. In the process, they will not have time, energy, or interest in #adulting. Why should they? If being an adult means kowtowing to the will of a competitive culture, why try?
So, the question remains: what do we want schools in the US to be? We can continue down the path that looks to data to determine what success looks like or we can fundamentally alter our expectations, allowing students to become adults who do what they love with the exact training they choose. But first, the US culture must learn to value all work, blue-collar, white-collar, artistic, exploratory, technological, and creative.