Tag Archives: career

One Year Ago, I Quit Grad School

A year ago today I had The Talk with my advisor and walked away from graduate school. It was a terrifying and relieving experience, and I haven’t regretted it for a day. I never would have guessed that a year later I’d have a job, a blog, and a love for french braiding. This journey has been amazing.

end of the dayCreative Commons License paul (dex) bica via Compfight

Quitting grad school is just like this, every day. Except on days when it’s -10 degress in Iowa. Which is most days, lately.

I and a couple other post-academic grad school quittas are setting up a fabulous, free, catch-all website for people quitting grad school or leaving academia, and we need your help. If you quit grad school — if you’re here because you’re thinking about quitting grad school – please contribute to the site or the book. It’s the nicest, easiest, non-academic-iest writing you’ll do and you will help out so many people dying to hear stories from others who’ve walked this road. Head on over and consider sending me a short idea for an essay (as long or as short as you like!) for the site or e-book. We’re hoping to have all of the submissions gathered by Feb. 1st, so get on that already!

Home sweet home: Is geography destiny?

I’m writing this from a chain coffee shop in a strip mall a few blocks from D’s elementary school. Today has been fragmented in the way so many of my days seem to be lately: a few hours making small talk with parents who are showing us the ropes of popcorn volunteering, a few hours on campus answering student emails and reading reviews of Halberstam’s new book about Lady Gaga and wondering whether I should assign it for my Mass Culture class next semester, back to the elementary school for the book fair, then the coffee shop, then back to the elementary school, then back across town to go home.

I wrote the other day about how I have this more is more is more problem, but maybe the problem isn’t the more, it’s the driving to get to the more. The girls go to school in a nearby district and we can’t afford the extended day care at the preschool, so on days when I’m working I drive D to kindergarten, then drive Lucy and Margeaux to my mom’s house or T’s mom’s house, then drive to campus, then drive to my downtown class, then drive back to campus. By noon I’ve spent around 90 minutes in the car. Now add the driving to gymnastics and dance, the drive to school and back on days when I’m not working, and let us not forget the 45 minute commute to the night class, and I’m starting to feel like I live in my car. If you need further evidence, just look at the mountains of jackets, shoes, empty travel mugs, granola bar wrappers, and mismatched gloves accumulating in the minivan.

One possibility is to try and move to the district where the girls are enrolled, home of the strip mall chain coffee shop. Housing prices are affordable here (if we could sell our house, a nightmare which I will address in another post). We love the elementary school and have every reason to believe we would continue to be satisfied with the academic experience. There’s a Spanish immersion program and a championship marching band. There’s also a Romney/Ryan/Take Back Our Country yard sign in every other front yard.

The parents we’ve met have been lovely: friendly, funny, welcoming. I’ve asked lots of questions about the district, and everyone has been eager to be helpful, offering insight and perspective on teachers and schools. What I don’t know how to ask is, are we going to be welcome here once you find out we don’t go to church and my kids are ardent fans of President Obama? It seems crass, somehow, to bring it up, like I’m accusing them of intolerance when they’ve been nothing but genuine and kind. But I can’t help but wonder if it just hasn’t occurred to them that I’m an interloper of sorts, if they’re simply assuming that if we moved here we would join the neighborhood Bible study group and our kids would go to Sunday school with their kids.

I want to be clear that I’m not hesitant about living in a community where faith is an important part of many people’s lives. I just don’t know how to gauge the centrality of faith and politics in establishing relationships here, and one of the things I really am longing for is a neighborhood where I can have coffee with other moms and carpool to preschool and feel connected to my neighbors and my kids’ schools and my community.But if those activities all include Bible study, this is just not going to work.

I want less time driving and more time doing, and in order to get that, something’s gotta give. My schedule next semester is shaping up to be slightly less time intensive behind the wheel, but there’s still the crazy morning commute: so much time and money wasted. This might be the only area of my life where I can say with absolutely certainty that I want less. I just wish I knew how to figure out whether or not we might want to call this place home.

 

 

 

 

 

Lamentations of a Teacher: What Advising May NOT Offer

A couple weeks ago, I waxed rather rhapsodic about how some of the things I love about teaching can be fulfilled through an administrative position. It got some hits and even a link from one of the Chronicle blogs, which is nice. And all of those things are still true.

But.

In the last week and a half, I’ve been thinking more and more about the teaching. I’ve been, for lack of a better word, longing for the classroom. I miss it deeply. Last week, I dreamed that I went into a room full of my old students and walked around hugging them and talking to them. A few nights ago, I my eyes sprung open at 3 am and I had this singular, piercing thought: I have to be a high school teacher.

What's your superpower? Venspired.com (@ktvee) via Compfight

I’ve been thinking about why this is the case and wanted to write up the flip side of “Advising Magic,” about what advising lacks when it comes to fulfilling my inner pedagogue. I’m writing this from my own perspective: remember, I work in a specific place (each advising center has its quirks), and I have had a lifelong love for teaching. Depending on your background or goals, these may not apply to you. But if you’re a teaching junkie, read on… Continue reading

Working Definitions of “Academic Advising”

I’ve been at my new job for a month as of today and I’ve hit a tipping point as a trainee: my ratio of time spent training versus time spent working with students is finally trending in the student direction. Yay! I really like students. I actually went through a bit of student withdrawal during the first week of classes, really missing that first day energy. Now I’m meeting students in small groups, as well as holding walk-in hours and appointments, and the difference in my attitude and energy is remarkable.

One aspect of our jobs is to track our “development” as advisors: to see how we mature, change, and transform as we gain experience and knowledge. Our Director suggested that we sit down every month or so to define what academic advising means to us and track changes over time. Here’s what I’ve come up with so far. Bear in mind that the kind of advising I do is focused on 1st and 2nd year students, before they transfer to their majors or apply to selective programs.

Academic Advising is…

Trying not to ruin someone’s life.

This was my working definition for several weeks. At the end of the day, if I could say “I didn’t ruin his life!” I knew I’d done okay. I didn’t forget a crucial thing that could jeopardize their application, progress to graduation, visa, or financial aid. I didn’t say yes when I meant no, or say something was definite when it isn’t, or that something is fine when it is not. When learning the ropes, advising is about not fucking up.

Just like teaching, minus the grading, plus more email.

Know how students are always asking you questions that the syllabus answered? Or things you covered in class, just a minute ago? Advising is full of that. A dozen emails asking about add/drop deadlines, which you just clarified in an email that you just sent. A dozen requests for an appointment, when those have to be scheduled online or through the front office, which is clearly stated and linked in your signature.

I help first year students navigate the same bureaucracy now that I did as a teacher. I direct them to the same resources (fin aid, counseling), sympathize with the same roommate conflicts and bouts of homesickness. It’s very similar in terms of the personal relationship with students. What it lacks, completely, is after hours duties (I don’t check my U email at all when I’m home) and, huzzah, grading!!

Pusher.

The Romans' Road To Heaven Chris via Compfight

A lot of my training focuses on learning about relatively unknown majors that aren’t obvious to students, but are really cool (like Health Promotion, or Environmental Planning and Policy). Then, I have to talk to students to figure out what they really want (which is rarely what they say they want: e.g. “I want to major in Bio” is code for “I vaguely want to work in health but I probably don’t understand how intense Bio really is and I have the mistaken notion that this is the only way to get into that world.”) and push them in the direction of alternatives. This goes double when it becomes clear that students are not going to be admitted to the major or program of their choice. Then I have to make those back ups or “parallel plans” seem like the perfect fit (which they often are, although students may not see it that way).

Reality check.

A lot of advising, at least here, is about getting students to face their denial. It’s about looking at a transcript full of Bs and Cs and saying, yeah, that GPA is not going to make the cut for Business School. Really. Even if you magically do everything right this semester and make all As. Or, yeah. Unfortch, this math placement exam? It’s mandatory, and it says that you really do have to take College Algebra before you can get started on that Actuarial Science major, which, by the way? Is 99% math and wants a minimum of 3.5 for admission. Or, you did take those courses at the community college. Unfortunately, the transcript folks determined that they will not count towards your major, and no, there really is nothing you can do about it, and yes, you really have to retake them here.

You’d be surprised how long a student can keep up a fantasy that the path they’ve chosen will work out, even if it’s extremely clear that it’s not going to work out. We are like the wicked queen’s mirror who has to say, Actually, you aren’t the fairest of them all. There are clearly about 120 students more fair than you. It requires a balance of forthrightness and kindness that is challenging to strike, but it’s also really rewarding to help a student negotiate that serious process. Some advisers here call it “dream reshaping.”

That’s all I’ve got for now. Advising is clearly a field in which people undergo enormous growth and transformation over several years. Everyone says I can expect to hit my stride in about 3 years. I keep hoping I can accelerate that, though! ;)

Have a great holiday weekend!

Hurts so good: Why I love new prep

Fall semester is in full effect here: stacks of syllabi cluttering my table, mountains of student emails to be answered: Can I drop your class? Can I add your class? Can I stay in your class if I can’t buy the books? The bookstore is out of your books, did you know? Should I take notes when I read because I never did that in high school because we didn’t really read textbooks  but it sounded like in class you were saying we should do that.  (Yes, I really got that email yesterday.)

I don’t always like the first week of classes—people are still dropping and adding, I feel like I have to talk about the syllabus but students don’t really retain the information, first years wander the campus slowly, trying to look cool, blocking traffic by meandering across the street while texting. But I had a lovely week in the classroom, despite the usual first week challenges, in part because I’m teaching so much new material this semester that even familiar standby classes like Intro to Gender Studies feel really fresh. Of my 3 classes, only one is technically a new prep (a class I have never taught before), but I’m using a new textbook and The Hunger Games in Intro, and I added a book about the history of feminism to my theory class and revamped the writing assignments.

All of which means my prep will be considerably more time intensive this semester: I have to read new material, pull together the web links and films, revise quizzes and exams, develop assignment guidelines. But instead of feeling weighed down by prep, I feel strangely invigorated. My to do list is miles long, and it has tedious everyday stuff like make attendance sheets,  but it also has items like: Watch Persepolis again and see if the links to Reading Lolita in Tehran are strong enough to make it worth showing in class.

New prep is time consuming, but I admit, I find it strangely addictive. I love choosing books, thinking about the flow and connections of a course, pulling together the images and films and assignments that will push students to really dig in to the work. I love watching it come to life in the classroom, trying out new discussion questions, seeing how students respond. I’m energized by the challenge of having to really be present in the moment when I’m teaching because I haven’t seen students respond to these texts before. And sure, every once in a while something absolutely flops (I will never teach River Town by Peter Hessler again), but most days teaching new material leaves me tired in mind and body in the best possible ways.

A love for new prep has had practical benefits for me as well: my basic strategy as an adjunct has been to say yes to what I’m offered. I’ve prepped 10 classes in 3 departments in the 12 semesters I have been an adjunct. Gay life cycle? YES. Diversity in the US? YES. Women in the Developing World? YES. Full schedule, fat stacks of desk copies of new books in my mailbox. No worries that I won’t be able to get a section of my specialty at the right time on the right day to make my teaching schedule work with kindergarten and preschool and dance and gymnastics.  I’ve had seasoned faculty tell me this is a great strategy to demonstrate my worth to the department(s); I’ve heard just the opposite as well, that I’m crazy to pour my time into prep for departments who aren’t going to be able to create a full time position for me, no matter how much they value my teaching. I think on some level, these are both probably true. But when I think about looking for an admin or advising position, I worry about losing the excitement and energy of new prep, the joy of knowing that in addition to the dishes and the laundry, Behind the Beautiful Forevers  is waiting to be read and thought about and prepped for discussion. I would rather be watching Persepolis than doing most of what’s on my to do list today. Financially, it’s a black hole, but intellectually, it’s the best part of my week: what’s an adjunct who loves new prep supposed to do?

Let’s Talk About Debt, Part 4: The Golden Handcuffs of Employment (aka “Public Service”)

Hello from post-academic-working-busy-life land! I’m so intensely sorry to have neglected the blog. I have excuses but they are boring. I think I’m finally settling in to my job and will have more time and brainspace to write here.

A few months ago, I started a series of entries about student loans and how grad school culture supported my awful financial choices for a decade called “Let’s Talk About Debt.” In the third essay, I wrote that loans could — and probably should — be considered a prison sentence:

Really, let’s reframe student loans as a prison sentence. The higher your debt, the longer your sentence. And 5 years might seem like nothing at 22, but I’m telling you that ten years later, 5 years seems like a big chunk of your life, and that’s if and only if you are able to put a huge amount towards loans every year. Most people – like me and my family – can’t approximate that.

So you might say Fuck it, I’ll just make my minimum payments for 25 years or whatever and just count on having to pay it. OK, yeah, that makes sense (if you ignore things like the massive amount of interest you’ll pay); but really, think about what you could be doing with that $400 or $500 (or $1000) per month. You could… save for retirement. Get your kids the braces they need or help pay for your Mom’s nursing home costs. Go on a honeymoon in San Francisco instead of camping. Get your dog the surgery for his hip instead of putting him to sleep. Invest in the stock market, or buy a kickass car. Fix the car you already have. That kind of money, month after month? It can be a life or death, eat or go hungry difference.

I wanted to add a new wrinkle to this conversation after a chat I had with a coworker earlier this week. We were talking about being broke and going broke. This coworker is a close friend and fellow ex-academic who came to work in advising after completing an interdisciplinary PhD and trying (and failing) to find full-time teaching work in community colleges and the like. She’s brilliant and funny and employed and broke. (Sounds familiar, right??) She told me that under federal guidelines, our jobs as full-time employees of a public university qualify us for Public Service Loan Forgiveness. It’s kind of like Northern Exposure, where Joel gets med school paid for when he agrees to work in Alaska for a few years, but in this case, PSLF qualifies any full-time public employee to write off whatever remains of their student loans after 120 on-time loan payments.

Doing a little math, you can see that for anyone with a lot of student loan debt, this is a really, really good thing. For me, personally, depending on what my monthly loan payments end up being, this plan could save me anywhere from $60,000 – $90,000.

Let that sink in for a second.

And then imagine my thought process. Continue reading

Learning the Ropes (Alt-Ac Life)

Is there a course on popcorn that would count both for a Gen Ed and my major?

… my daughter asked me in a dream last night.

And that pretty much sums up my brainspace at the moment.

72/365, non se ne ha mai abbastanza

This is your brain on academic advising!

Creative Commons License Benedetta Anghileri via Compfight

It’s day 8 of my training for academic advising and I think I hit capacity today: it’s not that it’s hard, it’s the quantity of information. Academic advising can be characterized by two kinds of meetings:

1. A meeting about a major. An experienced advisor sits with you and goes over the requirements for a major, including every course.

2. A meeting about a Gen Ed. An experienced advisor sits down with you and goes over the courses that fulfill a category of Ged Ed requirements, including every course.

Over and over and over again. Considering that I advise about 20 majors (grouped loosely into the categories of Math Sciences, Social Sciences, Communication & Literature, Education, and Pre-Law/Pre-Business), and each has it’s own special requirements (and some are in different colleges, which have their own special requirements), and there are about a dozen Gen Ed reqs for every student… yeah, that’s a lot of meetings, a lot of going over courses with titles like “Civilizations of Asia” and “Calc for Business” and “Elementary XYZ.” To add that extra element of confusion, the University is switching its numbering system from one entirely numerical (e.g. 011:123 History of Bellyflops) to one with lettering (HIST:1230 History of Bellyflops), but unsurprisingly, advisors are so inured to the numbering system (it’s engrained in their DNA, I believe) that every handout and discussion is peppered with numerical references to courses (“Oh, he placed in 22:6 so he needs to take 22:6 and 22:7 before he can take 44:9 in Computer Science”). This means a lot of cross-referencing and asking people to spell out titles (which, at the very least are consistent).

So, my day tomorrow looks something like

9-10 Pre-Business with Linda

10-11 Chemistry and Math Placement with Jan

11-12 Values, Society and Diversity Gen Eds with Peggy

12-12:30 “Reading” (a generous term for shoveling food in your mouth while replying to emails)

12:30-2:00 Calendaring (how we schedule appts and such) with Dave

2-3 Actuarial Science and Statistics with Steve

3-4 World Languages Gen Ed with Terry

Don’t get me wrong: everyone is super nice, and this is the gauntlet that is best for us before we sit down with students to answer questions. It’s obviously a system that’s evolved over time to a pretty smooth process, and every other advisor has gone through the same thing and acknowledges that, yes, it sucks, but it’s necessary (unlike, say, COMPS, which everyone agrees sucks but no one sees the point of!).

Anyway: I’m surviving, but it’s overwhelming and exhausting. I promise to try and write more, more often, but for now I’m keeping my head above water and that’s the best I can do. What’s happening in your lovely world?

 

Livin’ the Alt-Ac Life: My First Days as an Academic Advisor

Has it been only two days? Good lord, it feels like years.

My children spent the two weeks leading up to my first day on the job with back-to-back illnesses (Fifth Disease, then undiagnosed strep, then diagnosed strep) so I really crammed two weeks’ worth of organizing, prepping, errand-running, and TV watching into a single day on Tuesday.

open relations | illustration friday

(This came up when I looked up “brain overload” in comp fight. It’s pretty.)

Natasha Mileshina via Compfight

I work from 9-4 right now doing training. I won’t start meeting with students until, ya know, they’re on campus, in about 2 weeks. Continue reading

Job! And Speculating on the “Worth It”-ness of the PhD

Ack, I can’t believe it’s been 5 days since we updated. We would NEVER have let this happen in, say, February! But it has a busy week in Nervosaland.

First, I should announce that I got the job! In two weeks, I”ll start work as an academic advisor. This is obviously wonderful news. I will work with first year students advising on all matters academic and otherwise; my coworkers are exceptionally cool and caring people; the pay is competitive; and it’s 35 hours a week (for now), so it won’t be a huge change in our family time.

Overall, I am really excited. In my bones, I’m so relieved that we won’t have to struggle financially: we can meet our obligations, and with my additional income, we should be able to start paying off debt, take care of things around the house, and generally unclench. As soon as I accepted the offer, we went out and took care of several things that have languished due to my un/underemployment. Things like car repairs, replacing a broken watch, and omg. I get to buy new bras. I have one bra, y’all. And it’s the wrong size.

Advising is surrious bizness.

And yet, I have also had the (inevitable, I guess) mixed feelings that come when a big change is about to happen. Continue reading

More From My Post-Academic Soap Box: 5 Problems with the Alt-Ac Movement

First, the skinny on my job interview Wednesday: it went very well! The committee seemed to like me (I liked them!), there was lots of nodding and scribbling as they worked through 14 questions, and I had good answers for all of the questions. My screwups were minimal and not deal-breaking, IMO. It’s hard to say, obviously, what that means: last year, I had a fantastic interview at a community college that yielded no job. Overall, I think it’s an excellent fit, I have the experience and approach they’re seeking, and I have the right connections. Now it’s just a matter of my competition. They’re interviewing 13 candidates for 2 openings and hope to be able to tell me something in about 3 weeks. Ah, the academic timetable: glacial. Anyway: it’s a job (“students service-y administrative position” is all I feel comfortable sharing right now) that I very much hope I get, and I believe I put my best foot forward.

I guess I’m officially on the “alt-ac” track. Have you heard of “alt-ac” (or #alt-ac as they tweetly insist)? You probably have:  as usual, I’m late to the party. I missed the rise of this movement, a group of Humanities scholars who work outside the tenure track in “alternative” academic careers. I guess it made quite a splash at the MLA convention in January. I spent some time looking over the clusters and articles on the main alt-ac site, and have some thoughts about it as a post-academic myself.

First, I’ll say that any conversation about work outside the tenure track is healthy, especially for those of us foolish enough to go into the Humanities. Having lots of “out” alternative academics discussing how they got their jobs is a good thing. And there are some practical resources available now that are invaluable to all of us striking out on this journey. So, I’m glad alt-ac exists, even though I mostly think it’s not that innovative and probably destined to be a footnote in academic history, much like the brief flourishing of Doctor of Arts programs. Like the DA, alt-ac has its heart in the right place and a lot of great ideas. It’s essentially a community based on hope, which is lovely.

But I think it reenacts far too many of the same old fantasies that led us like sheep to the slaughter of Humanities grad school in the first place. Continue reading