As my tenure-track job officially started in August, I publicly declared that I refused to stop living a full, meaningful, fun, and healthy life just for the hope of job security in seven years. Following Dr. Radhika Nagpal‘s essay, “The Awesomest 7-Year Postdoc or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Tenure-Track Faculty Life,” I decided to experiment with a worry-free pursuit of tenure — but, without waiting until I have secured tenure to speak about it publicly:
So, here it goes. For the next seven years, I will continue to publish research, teach courses, mentor students, blog, and work with community organizations. I have chosen to stop biting my tongue because I am tired of tasting blood. I will be a whole person to my colleagues, students, friends, and family — and myself.
I just finished my first semester last week. So, how is it going thus far? Well — I am alive, still employed, and have no desire to look for a new job or move to a new place or leave academia. But, you know me — I have to reflect more extensively to paint an accurate picture.
I taught two classes this semester: one brand new prep (research methods) and a semi-new prep (adding more gender to my sexual diversity prep for gender and sexualities). Moving from one class, three years ago as a graduate student instructor, to two classes was a bit of an adjustment. Methods seemed to be first thing in the morning, with prep, grading, emails, and students dropping by office hours throughout the rest of the week. The course is not the most intellectually challenging, but demands a lot of work on the students’ part (and, as a result, on mine) to effectively teach methods. At times, my once per week, night-time, semi-prepped gender and sexualities class felt like an afterthought. With a class full of seniors, with few but big assignments, it did not require as much of my attention as the methods course. In the spring, I will have one new prep — social inequalities — and will teach two sections of methods. I am sure going from two to three courses will be another bumpy adjustment.
I am still trying to figure the students out intellectually, politically, and in terms of demographics. Just as I feel I have the student body figured out, my suspicion is disproved or complicated. The biggest adjustment is to how stretched thin many of the students appear — suffering from a second or third cold, sleep deprivation, and constant worry and anxiety. On occasion, I have mistaken exhaustion for laziness.
I have received my students’ evaluations. Overall, I get the impression I am “ok” in most of their eyes (especially in research methods), though some seemed to think very highly of me as an instructor. So, I have wrapped up the semester feeling good about a generally successful “Round 1,” particularly for my methods course. I struggled somewhat with this new prep, trying to find the right balance of tradition (i.e, how it was taught it in the past) and my own spin. Eventually, I realized my appreciation of tradition was actually fear driven by “impostor syndrome.” What do I know about teaching research methods? Ironically, I dreaded teaching quantitative methods and statistics for much of the semester (the methods I use in my own research!) What should I teach? What aspects am I supposed to teach that I barely understand myself? Impostor syndrome was turning into feeling genuinely unqualified for the job. That was the absolute worse feeling in my career thus far.
To my pleasant surprise, these aspects of the course went swimmingly — well enough that my qualifications became undeniably clear to me. I take from this a reminder to trust my gut (stop beginning with what others have done) and to proudly think outside of the box. I was explicitly hired for my unique scholarly approach; I just have to remind myself of that on the not-so-perfect teaching days.
I was warned that few professors actually make progress on their research in their first year on the tenure-track. You are adjusting to so many things at once. In the words of Dr. Kerry Ann Rockquemore, the one thing that counts the most toward tenure (particularly at research universities) is the one thing with the least external accountability: research. Teaching will take up every free minute if you let it. Email and meetings take up the rest. So, I went into this semester frightened but motivated.
For better and not-so-better, I sent out all three of the empirical chapters of my dissertation, and began extending a smaller review chapter, which I eventually sent out. By the beginning of the semester, I already had one revise and resubmit (R&R) — a chapter about which my committee felt the most apprehensive in terms of publishing. Soon after, I had a rejection for my strongest paper from my discipline’s top journal. I quickly revised it and sent it to the top journal in my subfield. That paper came back with a very promising R&R, which I turned to to get away from the other, daunting R&R. Now, it is forthcoming at that journal, scheduled for its next issue! The third paper was rejected, returned with pages and pages of nit-picky, soul-crushing feedback. I sent the review paper to a journal outside of my discipline, only to have it handed back with no reviews. One on-going co-authored paper has finally been sent out for attempt number three, and I hope to submit another soon.
So, here is the tally: 1) one rejection-turned-accepted (in print by March); 2) one daunting R&R, possibly turned co-authored to complement me where I am a bit lacking in expertise; 3) one painful rejection that I have not fully digested; 4) one quick and surprising desk-reject that I need to start from scratch empirically; 5) one co-authored paper under review; 6) one co-authored paper soon to be under review at a top journal. My goal is to wrap up all of the projects that do not “count” as much toward tenure because they were not started at my current institution. I hope to have evidence of progress on new projects by my mid-term review (in 2.5 years).
Yes, I sleep. No, I am not neglecting my teaching. No, I am not doing shoddy work, or aiming for “easy” journals. What has helped is sitting my butt down each morning to write for at least 1 hour. And, obviously, that is not enough to actually do the research, so I often left Thursday and part of Friday to run analyses and create tables. Soon into the semester, I connected with four other junior faculty — from various disciplines — to create a bi-weekly writing group. We talk through the challenges we face in our research — empirical, political, disciplinary, interpersonal, and emotional. We are able to ask the tough questions that we are not as comfortable asking those who decide our fate (i.e., senior colleagues). Sometimes, others say what you already know, but need someone else to validate you.
Realistically, the kind of productivity that seems feasible during the semester is editing existing papers. I do not feel I have the time and energy to explore new data or literature. I did run models — even redid one paper’s results section — but there were no stretches of hours of looking up literature to review. I suspect the heavy initial lifting for projects will be limited to the summer and other long-ish breaks. So, I am planning ahead to get moving, particularly on 1-2 new projects, over the summer so that I can shift to writing and revising during the fall and spring.
Well, I am in a fortunate position, for service is not yet expected. No advising, no committee work, and too new for independent studies and student research. But, I hear it coming. Advising starts, for certain, in the next fall semester. And, I know my name is crossing colleagues’ minds for certain committees. So, thus far, I have worked on expanding this blog, and attending committee meetings of my choice. I talked a bit game in August about working with community groups. But, then the semester started. When I get home from work on weekdays, and wake up late on the weekends, the extent of the energy I have for service is blogging. I am embarrassed to admit that. But, this is one exhausted professor!
Oh, but do not think for a moment limited service means I am not stirring up some kind of trouble (in a good way!). Politically speaking, my 7-year experiment has been, well, interesting and eventful. I certainly made known that I refused to be a scared, silent, invisible, stressed out pre-tenure professor. But, there were political landmines that I stepped on that I had not anticipated nor intentionally sought out. I promise you — I did not actively seek out ways to “rock the boat,” though I did not make secret my long-term plan to make a difference on campus and beyond.
Well, there was the negative comment about me on a white supremacists’ blog site. Then, the religious literature left in my apartment, probably by a maintenance or construction crew member who did not approve of same-gender relationships (i.e., my partner and me). Then, another unnecessarily mean comment online questioning my credentials and political agenda. Oh, and the threat to sue me over a blog post unless I edited it. Sheesh.
For reasons that probably seem obvious to other academics — or, really anyone who has to navigate workplace politics, I did not publicly mention other landmines that went off. Maybe I alluded to them — I cannot remember at this point. One was challenging the message that an invited speaker’s talk seemed to send about marginalized groups, and later questioning the funding source. Whoops! I found out I was not alone in my concern, but I was the dummy who opened his mouth about it. That blew over, but now some people’s first impression of me may be the uppity new junior professor. (Funny, I was asked directly after the talk, “nothing? you didn’t ask a single question!” Nope — because you wanted me to.)
But, there have been positive outcomes, as well. Sonya and I have gotten praise for starting and expanding this blog. I have heard comments here and there with words like “inspiring.” (Loving it!) I have been credited by friends for encouraging them to be braver or more outspoken. I have not been at my new institution long enough to be a part of big change, but I believe my arrival has been noticed by students, staff, and faculty. I am brown where there are not a ton of faculty of color. Queer where few are visibly and vocally out. Young, outspoken, and accessible. I suspect word will soon travel — hopefully in a positive way!
Health And Well-Being
But, how am I really doing? I started off eager but nervous and still recovering from the self-esteem-crushing effect of graduate school. I finish on a wonderful high note: a forthcoming article in the top journal in my subfield. And, yes, I am taking on R&R with great intensity — that is, rest and relaxation for you scholars who are not as familiar with the acronym. I feel a twinge of guilt for taking time off. But, the guilt is far outweighed by the exhaustion I felt throughout the semester. In order to stay productive, with now three classes (including one new prep), I cannot return for the spring semester anything short of recovered.
It was a doozy of a semester. By the close of the first month, the social isolation took its toll. A new pattern of weeping in my office either Wednesday or Thursday morning emerged. And, the next day, I would return as my fierce drag queen alter ego Denise (in attitude only, not attire). But, that stopped being enough. Already exhausted and weary, I hit little bumps or stepped on landmines that felt like all-out assaults. And, when a friend passed mid-semester, I was completely worn down. That period, and the day of the shooting on my mother’s job, were nearly impossible to carry on with “business as usual.” It has taken a great deal of discipline, resilience, and optimism to push through the exhaustion, disappointment, worry, heartache, and loneliness.
To be fair, I should be giving myself permission to just survive. No one expects more of a new professor. But, I expected to do more than survive, which, to be fair, I have! I started out setting up meetings with colleagues in and outside of my department, my dean and associate dean, and associate provost. My goal was to make a connection, ask for advice on adjusting and being productive, and share my five-year plan toward tenure. The first couple of meetings were ok, but more time was spent on the “how to adjust” part than on the “let me show you my plan!” part. Once the semester really kicked-in, these meetings dissolved into “will you be my friend?” I resented appearing like the weepy and exhausted new professor — but that’s exactly who I was. Who can talk about a five-year plan when weeping cut into the time you set aside for writing? Fortunately, I have connected with supportive and understanding people around campus this way.
Semester One, done. And, I would say I am in pretty good shape for the conclusion of my first semester and start of my second. I go into Semester Two continuing to do what worked: take evenings and weekends off; do yoga in the morning; write at least 60 minutes first thing in the morning at work; keep meeting with my writing group; take regular lunch breaks; and, accept that the first year is primarily about
adjusting surviving. I return knowing to make more of an effort to connect with my colleagues (just being visible is not enough), and that there is no such thing as being apolitical. I suppose the biggest lesson of all is that I am still learning and growing as a scholar (and that is a good, and expected, thing).
So, where does the 7-year experiment stand? I am certainly aware that my refusal to be quiet and politically inert comes at a time where job security is threatened, political action is punished, radical ideas and people are attacked, and free speech is undermined. It almost feels as though I am finding solid ground just as chaos ensues around me.
To my pleasant surprise, I have taken a position at an institution that celebrates — not merely tolerates — my outspokenness, my emphasis on collegiality and inclusivity, and even my blogging. Silly me, I chose this job knowing I would be comfortable to engage in this kind of advocacy. But, it took explicit affirmation from my colleagues, chair, and dean to fully acknowledge and appreciate it. It seems I am appreciated because of, not despite, my emphasis on intellectual activism and accessibility. So, until I begin seeing indications to the contrary, I am going to keep being myself. I feel even more compelled to do this kind of work, and take this kind of approach, because of the number of scholars who can’t.