I Know I Said Blogging Would Be Light, But...

I cannot grade. I cannot. I know I have to, and I will at some point, but now, no.

Today was long as shit. The cable access interview thing went fine, whatevs. Then I had to moderate a student focus group related to the work of CTTCCFPD, and it was great. First, the students came up with a couple of great suggestions about how to make things clearer, as well as for what should be included in a course we'd develop should the requirements be changed. Second, they really took the whole "focus group" thing seriously and offered incredibly substantive feedback, even on things that they didn't necessarily "like."

I suppose I was so happy with this because certain people seemed to think that the focus groups were dumb - that students couldn't possibly contribute in meaningful ways to this process. I've got to say, I really think that students generally will contribute in meaningful ways to whole bunches of things if they know that their input is being taken seriously. To be fair, though, participation was on a volunteer basis, and so it was a self-selecting group of smarties whom I know, and whom I know really care about these issues. I attract the smarties to me - what can I say? Engaged smarties who have great things to offer. Sure, they're not "experts" in the field, but their perspective is important and not uninformed and without merit. I've never doubted this - and not because I think we should "just give students what they want." Things like these focus groups allow for us to explain to students why some things are as they are and shouldn't change, and they allow for us to let students have ownership over their education. I think that should really be the goal, although I suppose some might think I'm a "radical" and a "revolutionary" for thinking that students should drive their own educations.

I've got to say, though, that I'm really astonished that those who have been in the minority in these discussions (and whose voices have been loudest and most offensive) didn't persuade more students who are into them to participate, because seriously: if they had, it might have made their position on matters related to CTTCCFPD seem a bit less self-serving. Had I been in their position, I'd have tried to stack these focus groups with students who would advocate for the thing that I wanted. Sure, that would have been totally political and even maybe diabolical, but it's what I'd have done. As it is, those people haven't paid attention to the focus groups (I'd asked for potential questions that we should ask students from these people, because I'm nothing if not inclusive, but they offered nothing substantive in response to those requests) because they don't value the input of students on these matters (I'm paraphrasing, but this is not just conjecture on my part - somebody actually wrote just about that to me in an email - which left me dumbfounded).

So, focus group number two will take place tomorrow, and I've also got some questionnaires coming in from students who can't attend the meetings but who want to participate. I'm excited to see what further feedback comes in.

In other news, I had a very productive meeting with BES, and I'm so proud of the work that she's doing. And I also taught some great poems in my intro to lit class, and the students worked very hard on interpreting them. On the fly, I also introduced them to "Susie Asado" by Gertrude Stein, and it was awesome to see their reactions. "What is a nail. A nail is unison." One of my absolute favorite lines of poetry ever. Ah, Stein. She rules. (I am loving her especially right now because I've been reading Sylvia Beach and the Lost Generation as bedtime reading, and I'm wicked into all those expatriate modernists - and am coming around to the feeling that Pound and Hemingway may be the coolest, in spite of the fascism and misogyny.)

You know what's funny? In the process that has been CTTCCFPD, I've been painted by some as this "radical" who doesn't actually care about "real" literature. A "revolutionary" who is about "giving students what they want" (as in, the "customer" is always right) and who is caving to "pressures" from other "factions" - "factions" that don't understand what "real" literature is and who think "anything" should go (note: these "factions" involve people who work on "outsiders" like Melville and James and Toni Morrison). This has been so freaking weird because anybody who actually pays attention to what I teach and to how I conduct my scholarship - including the literary texts that I do scholarship on as well as how I use theory to get to my interpretations and to assist what I want to argue - would typically (I imagine) see me as a weirdly conservative traditionalist. I believe in the canon. Not in canons. I teach canonical texts. I believe in forcing students to read Wordsworth's Preface to the Lyrical Ballads, and I think that T.S. Eliot's claims in "Tradition and the Individual Talent" constitute some meaningful and important shit even in the 21st century. I advise my students to take courses that give them historical coverage - as in, dude, you need some Chaucer or, dude, you need some Restoration Drama; I emphasize how important defining a broad canon of literature is. I care about aesthetics and aesthetic traditions - and I sort of hate the idea of putting women's lit or multicultural/postcolonial lit into their own canons that compete (and never catch up with) with a dominant canon. I don't want "alternate canons" - I want a canon that includes the best - which means letting some people in who would historically have been marginalized, and which involves excluding some WASP males who aren't so hot, in comparison. I'm a person who took Latin and Anglo-Saxon at the graduate level, and I'm a person who wrote a book on three authors who are central to anybody's discussion of what the "canon" includes. Anybody's. And I'm a person who thinks that using literature to "do" theory, and that to do away with things like close reading and analysis in the service of the "next big thing" is pure stupidity. I care about foundations, and I believe that some texts have more merit than others. Sure. I'm theoretical in my approach to literature. And sure, I think that there is value in thinking about "low culture" texts. But dude: Virginia Woolf is more important than Judith Krantz. All things are not equal. More people may read Judith Krantz, but more people should read Virginia Woolf. Period. I believe in literary periods, and I believe in Literature - Capital L - I think Literature matters. I consistently advise my students that they shouldn't ignore things like the 18th century, for example. (I'll admit, I sometimes support my students when they want to ignore Tennyson, but that's because I'm not into him. It's not like a rejection of the 19th century or something. Dude, ignore Tennyson. Fine. But fuck off if you also want to ignore Elizibeth Barrett Browning and Dickens and Elizabeth Gaskell and Matthew Arnold and George Eliot and Walter Pater. Hell, fuck off if you want to ignore George Gissing. That's some good shit.) The point is (and really, I do have a point) I'm not some revolutionary at all.

It's just that I don't believe that literature begins and ends with Shakespeare (to give just one example). I want lots of important and canonical things to count for students. I want for the courses that students take (and that we require) to really show them the field. I want them to understand that historical coverage means covering a large swath of history in their upper-level classes - not just "really old shit" that they take because "really old shit" is required, but also not excluding "really old shit." I want them to understand that both American and British Literature matter - that it's not the early part of the 20th century and that we've really passed the point that Matthew Josephson was at in freaking 1916 when he lamented that "many of his own professors knew nothing yet of Melville or Dickinson and that they disparaged Henry James" (Fitch 232). I've got colleagues in 2009 who could be these 1916 professors. Dude, American literature exists and it's not radical to claim that it matters. We've got to acknowledge its centrality, especially as we live in America. And my specialization is not American literature, but I get that American literature counts and matters. And yes, texts from the 2oth and 21st century count and matter, too. In terms of the field today. Call me freaking Crazy. Clearly believing these things must mean that I'm off my rocker.

What was awesome about the students today is that they freaking know a hell of a lot more about the field as it stands today, and what matters in literary studies today, than some of my colleagues do - in spite of our current curriculum. And they really want rigor that doesn't exist in the current curriculum, in spite of it's circa 1970 requirements. Sure, they want choice, but they want to choose things that I think most professors in this field would call "good." They don't want Judith Krantz. They want people like Dreiser and Faulkner and Hannah Foster and Salman Rushdie and A.S. Byatt and Iris Murdoch and James Fennimore Cooper and Emily Bronte and Kurt Vonnegut. Seriously. And seriously, who'd want those authors as because they are "easy" or "fun"? Who'd choose them if they were just looking for cotton candy? Students are not saying that they want Dean Koontz. They want real coverage. Really? Those things are "easier" than Dryden? Or Pope? Or Marlowe? Or Aphra Behn? Seriously?

I've read all of the above, and personally I think that Behn is "easier" than Rushdie. But somehow Rushdie is "fun" and Behn isn't? Really? Read The Rover and then read Midnight's Children and report back. See which you think is more "fun" and "easy."

The point is, students freaking rock. And those who think that they have nothing substantive to offer to discussions of curriculum are stupid. Yep, I'm saying that. They are stupid. They are stupid and small-minded people. Not because students are customers that we serve, but because we're teaching them and they're learning and they have really awesome things to contribute. And if you reject those contributions, it's only evidence of the fact that you're a small-minded person and a short-sighted person. Period.

Tomorrow will be another long day, but I'm feeling very positive. Very, very positive. Because students are not idiots and they really have great things to say. That's more than I can say for some (and I should note that this is a small minority) of my "colleagues."

Today's Gonna Be a Long One

Seriously.

On the agenda:

• Go to office and take care of some busy-work for student mtg I'm running this afternoon, as well as finish commenting on BES's thesis draft.
  
• Interview with some university TV thingie about book.
• Run student mtg.
• Teeny tiny break.
• Meet with BES.
• Prep for class and grade stack of papers and midterms.
• Teach.
• Prep for tomorrow's classes.
• Grade things that I must give back tomorrow.
• Collapse.

Thursday looks similar.
Then Friday I go to see my father (though I'll also get qual. time with my mom and G. after that).

In other words, I suspect blogging will be light for the next short while.

Sure, the Student was Sucking Up, But I'll Take It

A student today, upon turning in hir take-home exam, told me that it was "awesome." I thought that ze was being sarcastic, but no. Ze went on and on about how much ze learned in doing the exam, how interesting it was working on the different parts....

Now, again, I do think there was a good bit of sucking up in the mix on this. But the other students, too, seemed to feel like they learned something from the take-home and like it was, in context, fairly enjoyable.

I love a test that students learn from doing. Love. That I appear to have succeeded in producing that for this class, well, that was the sort of thing that I needed today.

By the way, thanks for all of the comments on yesterday's post. It occurred to me today that yesterday would have been my mom and my dad's wedding anniversary, which may have had some effect on my emotional state. (It's always a weird day for me, in no small part because my dad often would call me on that day after the divorce, which I do think was a little bizarre, but whatever.) Anyway, I know I'm not totally alone, though I do wish that I had a brother or a sister who "got" things from my perspective. As far as going through this goes, I've got huge amounts of support from lots of corners, but I don't have anybody who is actually going through it with me. That's hard. And, frankly, I'm not into going through this at all, and I would like to throw a tantrum and refuse :) But so anyway, thanks again.

Bad Daughters, Bad Fathers, Etc.

When my parents split up, I was 11 years old. The divorce was finalized when I was 12. Let me get this out here first: I never thought it was my fault. I thought my parents were both assholes, to be honest, and I blamed them for not being grown-ups and for finding a way to honor the commitment that they made. I thought I was grand. I thought that the failure of their marriage was solidly their fault. They were the ones who promised to be together until one or the other of them died, and if they fucked that up, that really was on them. You could ask my mom and she would tell you that this was exactly my perspective: I'm not rewriting history as far as that goes.

No, where I started to wonder where I was a "bad daughter" was after the divorce. See, I knew them splitting wasn't about me. But when the split played out, well, I wondered whether I might be not the greatest daughter in the world - to my dad. I mean, sure, my mom is not the easiest person in the world to get along with, and sure, she can be a real bitch, but I always knew I was her number one most important thing to her. And yeah, she was a TOTAL bitch to my dad (at one point during the splitting up she spit in his face! Seriously! Who except for people on Rock of Love spits at people? And seriously, this was not the way of the two of them during their marriage) but she never actually got in the way of him seeing me. She didn't beg him to do so, but if he'd have manned up, well, she wouldn't have stood in his way. I know that with certainty, and I think my father should have known that, too, seeing as he knew my mom since they were both 14 years old.

See, the divorce agreement said my dad was to have every other weekend with me. My memories are fuzzy in the years when I was 11-13 years old, though I believe he saw me more frequently then, even though I don't remember many full weekends. But I can tell you with certainty that he saw me maybe 5 times - never for more than a few hours - over the entirety of the time that I was in high school. I can tell you with certainty that I wasn't invited to his wedding with my stepmother (when I was 13) and that I only found out that they were married after the fact. I can tell you with certainty that my stepmother was a bitch to me when they were first together, and those handful of times that I saw my father throughout my high school years that she was not present, I assume because she hated me. Or maybe because she thought I hated her and she was too much of a douchebag to get that I was a fucking kid and of course I thought she sucked but if she'd have made an effort then I'd have come around. Whatever. I can tell you that I only ever saw my father's side of the family - including 6 brothers and sisters and their kids and my grandmother - because my mom took me to see them - my dad cut them off (with the exception of one sister) as surely as he cut me off. The point is, the way my dad just... disappeared in that time... well yeah, it made me question whether I really was a cool kid. Whether it even mattered to him that I was his kid.

He believes that he didn't want to get in the way of my life with my friends in that time. That's what he's told me since. I'll note that it wasn't me who moved to the other side of town, which was why this was (if it even was) a problem. But I never had a room that was mine in his house, and I never was part of his life in a consistent way from the time my parents split.

Everything came to a head with my stepmother's first pregnancy, when I was about to turn 18. I only found out about it because my aunt told me that the baby had been stillborn, right around my birthday (in August - I hadn't invited my father to my high school graduation, though I found out later that my mother had sent him something telling him about it, which he ignored). I reacted not well. I called my dad on my birthday and bitched him out about not calling me on my birthday, knowing that he'd gone through that loss just a few days before, but pissed off because he hadn't even told me about the pregnancy. I acted like I didn't know that he'd just had a baby die. I made him tell me. Because I wanted to hurt him. Put this in the "bad daughter" column, if you're keeping score.

After that, things actually kind of got better with my dad. I had a car at that point, and we could manage our relationship without my mom, and I was basically grown, and he could relate to me on a friendy good-time level. He moved me home from college a couple of times, helped me out when my car died in Nowhere Ohio, we saw Buddy Guy and B.B. King in concert, etc. I thought things were going well. I introduced FL (high school and college boyfriend) to my father and his side of the family. And then my stepmother had my half-brother K. And all of a sudden she didn't think I was so much of a threat, and this was the time in my adult life where I was closest with my father and with my father's new life. I babysat K., and I visited with them somewhat regularly. Sure, I was astonished when my uncle acted like my father had contributed to paying for colleage at K's first birthday party (and I disabused him of that notion - my father paid for nothing of my education, and his pride in it has consistently pissed me off, since he never supported it), but we were in a "good place" then. Sure, I couldn't count on my father for shit, but things were fine, right? Sure, I felt like he didn't really know me and I consistently felt like I was crappy in relation to him, but that was all my mom's fault, right?

And then my dad "confessed" when my stepmom was pregnant with my youngest and most-favoritest half-brother C. that he was cheating on her. Over lunch. At a Ruby Tuesday's or Houlihan's or something. It was horrifying. I don't even know what I said, though I suspect it was something along the lines of, "What the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you telling me this? Do you expect me to tell you that this is ok?" I've done my best to repress this, and continued to try to have a relationship with my dad and his family. It sort of worked. Sort of.

And then grad school. This is when we became more distant again. My dad drove through Ph.D. Town when he went on vacation with his "real" family, and didn't bother to stop and see me. That was one clue that I sucked. And then I asked him to do something for me (a rare thing, that I would make a request) and he said yes at first, but then renegged. This was my last straw, and this was when I intentionally cut him off for over a year. I then started feeling like a "bad daughter" after about 8 months, and I wrote him a letter. He never responded. My stepmother got in touch with me, and this led to me visiting with them in the summer of 2004 for a few hours. My dad never even mentioned the thing that had caused the rift. He just acted like it never happened. From that point, he'd sent random emails to me, and I respond excitedly and extensively, and then he'd never reply. And then I feel like an idiot and like a shitty daughter, even though I know that I'm not. I'm the best daughter in the world to my parents who love me - my mom and G. - but apparently I suck for my father. Whatever. Fuck off, right?

And I make my peace with it. I think to myself that maybe things will be different with my dad if I get married, or if I have a kid. I think to myself that maybe when my brothers are grown up, or when I have a family of my own, that things will change with me and my dad. But then he gets cancer. Pancreatic cancer. Terminal cancer, right? All of what might happen once some time passes and some things change? Yeah, time's up for us! It's over! This is our relationship! Period.

And so I go see him in January, because I know that it's important. And I think I'll see him soon again. And he sends me an email and I send him an email back, but he doesn't reply. Which I figure is par for the course, because that's him, right? And I figure no news is good news. Except no news is actually that nobody is telling me fucking anything. I find out last week that he's in hospice, for once and for all, and apparently this isn't new news - this is news that came via my very persistent Great Aunt. And then my Favorite Aunt (my dad's sister) told me.

And I'd have gone up this weekend if it weren't for the fact that I didn't want to kill him with my horrifying cold. So I called my dad, and told him that I'd come this coming weekend if I wasn't feeling better. In the meantime, I got a report from Favorite Aunt about her visit (awful, though she said that my dad was very alert mentally, though ravaged physically). I then tried to call my dad. On his cell, which is HIS phone. I got my stepmother, who's apparently taken his phone from him ("he's too sick to talk on the phone anymore"). According to my stepmother, I shouldn't bother coming because he doesn't know who he sees anymore. According to my aunt (who I trust a hell of a lot more) he'd like to see me. Fuck.

So am I a "bad daughter" for not going up this weekend? I don't think so. I think I did the best I could. And I did go to see him in January even though it wasn't convenient, and I have done my best as his daughter since I was a kid. As I said to my stepmother, I'm planning to come visit him on Friday. Period. I think I should. I want to. If something changes (i.e., he dies) then I'd like to be informed. I know it's fucked up, but I have little faith she'd tell me that. Whatever. I plan to drive up on Friday. Am I a "bad daughter" for having done less than that? Given the father he's been over the past 22 years? I don't think so.

But is he a "bad father"? In a lot of ways, yeah. Was he there when I needed him to be? No. Was he what a father should be in all sorts of ways? No. But it struck me... my aunt said he was a good brother, when he was. Not always, but historically. She said that to him. He said to her, he tried. I believe he did. And historically, I believe he tried to be a good father to me. That's not to say he succeeded for a good bit of time. But I do believe that he meant to be a good father to me, and that he tried, when he could, when he was able. Was it enough? No. Is he lucky that I had G. as a surrogate? Without a doubt. But my father did try. He just failed a whole lot of the time.

And yeah, that sucks. Who wants to be a father who fails most of time? Nobody. But he also did love me. And he tried as hard as he knew how to try - it just wasn't enough.

So am I a bad daughter? I don't think I really am. I think I did the best I could with the dad that I had. Sure, I sucked in a lot of ways. But I tried. The truth is probably that my dad wasn't a "bad father" either. I think he did try to be as good as he could try to be. Sure, he wasn't everything I'd want him to be, nor everything he should have been. But he did try, when he did. I think a lot of times he just didn't believe that he could ever be what he should be, as a father, to me. I think he did better with his sons, though I won't really know that until I can talk to them as grown-ups, if I ever can do that anyway.

Bur my father is dying. And I don't know what I'm supposed to do, given all of this history. All I know is that it's horrible, and that I don't know what to do. And I know that I'm entirely alone in this, and that makes it more horrible.

In Which the Man-Kitty Realizes a Dream

Life is always interesting, here with the Man-Kitty and his faithful sidekick Mr. Stripey. Mr. Stripey is affectionate and rambunctious and joyful, whereas the Man-Kitty... well, he has a more reserved personality and really doesn't like most people very much. He also plots and schemes.

At one time, his greatest wish was to figure out how to jump onto the top of the kitchen cabinets. It took him a couple of years, but he figured it out.

Now, a couple of years later, he has discovered how to get atop another high place - a place not intended for kitties. Mr. Stripey is intrigued by these things that M-K does, but for whatever reason, he does not attempt to imitate his antics. No, he just watches. Intently.


(My apologies for the lop-sided photograph - with the mirror in the picture, I had to make sure not to take a self-portrait as I captured this classic moment :)

You Know What's Great about Blogging?

Congratulations and celebrations, even when the inevitable has happened! Hooray!

But seriously, thanks all for the excitement over the final tenure decision. I'm excited, even though I know it's dumb, as really it was a done deal from the time I got the provost's letter a few months ago. And yet - yes, it's awesome to have the final word. And it's also awesome that everybody in my dept. who went up with me also got tenure! Yay!

Now, in non-self-congratulatory news, I actually got some (decent, though not totally productive) work done on the R&R. First, can I just say that (as I'd suspected) the reports really gave good freaking advice? I mean, I went through the manuscript, and I totally get where the comments were coming from, and I totally see why they made the suggestions that they made, and I totally see how to fix what's wrong. The true fixing will be for tomorrow, but yes, this will be a better essay for it. I'm a dummy for having procrastinated for so long out of fear. A serious dummy. In the words of A.'s nephew, I think that I was a real "whopper junior" (his latest name to call people who do lame things, which by the way I think is totally awesome as a term for lame-o people, and I plan to spread it around as such, as I encourage you to do as well.) Because you know what? The problems are along the lines of the exact same things that I tell my students that they need to do to make their papers better (though on a more sophisticated scale, of course). Basically, I need more analysis, more complication of assertions, more support, more complexity. And I'm totally prepared to do all of that. Looking over the article, it's clear to me why the harsher of the two readers responded as ze did. I probably would have been harder on myself than ze was, if I'm honest, if I were the reviewer. Seriously. These are really awesome and helpful readers' reports, and the suggestions are beyond manageable. Now, sure, this very selective journal may reject me ultimately, but even if they do, I know the article will be stronger for revising in these terms. Stronger on my terms, and something that I will be more proud of, at the end of the day. And if it is rejected, ultimately, I'll send it someplace else and be proud of it.

In other news, I started working on April Conference Paper (ACP henceforth) and I realized that I needed to take a trip back in the wayback machine to when I was doing my MA and to take a look at Jameson's Postmodernism, or The Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism. SERIOUSLY. WHO KNEW? I certainly didn't realize that I'd ever return to that, in anything other than a peripheral way. Especially in a paper that is, almost entirely, about the representation of gender and sexuality. But apparently, a) the things I read way back in Olden Times still are locked in my brain and b) I'm not totally locked into a Here's My Argument, Just Add Theorist I Use program, which is nice to know, as I sometimes worry that this is who I am. Apparently, I have original ideas every now and again. Original ideas that totally ignore my favorite theorists, in spite of my general tastes, which do lean toward my favorite theorists. Frederic Jameson is like some cardamom, in my general cooking repertoire, which includes salt, pepper, garlic, cayenne, and cumin. (Salt = Foucault, Pepper = Barthes, Garlic = Cixous, Cayenne = Butler).

So I'm sure I should do more work tonight, but I'm not gonna. Not. Gonna. Do. It.

Bad News, Good News

The Bad: I just found out that a panel I'd proposed for a conference wasn't accepted. Eh. One less thing I need to worry about.

The Good: The Board of Regents has approved my promotion to associate professor and my tenure. It's official. Done. Finis. (Not that this is real news, this part was a mere formality, etc., but it's still nice for the process to be totally complete.)

Work Expands to Fill the Time You Give It (One Hopes)

It is just after 2PM on the Friday of my spring break. I have accomplished nearly nothing. I have not graded, I have not worked on my R&R, I have not dealt with stuff for the CTTCCFPD, I have not begun work on April Conference Paper. I have managed to straighten up the living room and to do laundry. I have also been sick.

Pathetic.

I'll be checking in here regularly with annoying updates about my accomplishments from this point forward. I need to feel like I am accountable to something, and the blog will have to serve. Ignore all posts between now and next week if you don't want to be bored stiff.

Melodrama, Nearly Over

Thanks for indulging my "I hate everything" post. Good conversation with FB. All is well there, and I no longer hate arguing with him because we are no longer arguing! Yay!

I still feel crappy, but I've slept most of the day away, I can almost breathe again, and I think I may be on the mend. As for seeing my dad.... well, I'll see how I feel tomorrow, but I think I'm going to go next weekend. Part of that is because it will mean 8+ hours of driving over a 48-hour period, and feeling like I feel, I don't think that's wise. As far as I can tell, going next weekend is soon enough.

In sick person news, why is it that I don't like orange juice really at all unless I'm sick? And why do I love it with a love that is pure and true when I am sick? It has always been thus.

I Hate Everything

1. I'm sick as a dog with a stupid head-cold.
2. This means that unless I have a miraculous recovery between now and tomorrow that I probably shouldn't go see my dying father this weekend.
3. I'm arguing with FB, which really irritates me as I don't actually want to argue with him, except for that I need to because the things I'm upset about really are important, so if I don't fight about them they will never be resolved. He'll be irritated I'm posting about this at all, and yet I think I want to irritate him. That is not mature of me.
   
4. My r&r is not done.
   
5. It is gray and gloomy and cold outside.
6. Spring break is almost over.
7. I cannot breathe out of my right nostril, and yet my nose is also sort of runny. Oh, and rubbed raw from blowing it. (I know, too much information, but it's hard when you're in this state not to hate the world, as I know you all know.)
8. I just feel miserable. Physically, emotionally, etc.
   

Spam Comments are LAME

And thus I've turned on comment moderation for posts more than a week old.

In other news, my dad is back in hospice (he was there for about a week, begged to go home, but now he's back, and I doubt will be returning home again). I'm not sure what to say about it. It's just sad and it really sucks.

Things Crazy Hates in Published Literary Criticism

Well, enough people seemed interested in my last post about things that I think are irritating at best and just plain wrong at worst when it comes to writing that I see in my discipline, that I figured I'd might as well do a post about that, and about how my preferences regarding published writing in my discipline translate into how I teach students to write about literature (which is informed by things I learned teaching comp and which bears not much resemblance to the way that I myself was taught to write about literature as an undergrad).

Now, let me just note for the record that I don't think I'm some expert arbiter of taste before whom others should bow on this stuff. I mean, seriously. I'm not so great, and what I'm about to write is not some definitive last word on these issues. Moreover, let me make it totally clear that I'm just talking about literary critical writing here. What I have to say may apply in other disciplines - or not - but I'm talking about my discipline here, because it's the one I'm trained in. Also, let's just note for the record that part of the reason that I'm writing this post is to warm myself up not to make these mistakes in the revise and resubmit that I must dig into knocking out today. I'm not coming from a place of perfection in my own scholarly writing, AT ALL, and there are a great many things that I can and should do better with in my own writing.

So, with those caveats in place, here is my list:

• Good literary criticism for me opens with an interesting and specific hook. This can be theoretical, historical, oriented toward a specific issue in criticism or the world, biographical (although that's not my preference, personally), or it can be a "pivotal moment" from a primary literary text(s) under discussion. But the way into the piece should be engaging, and it should make it obvious up front what the writer is going to discuss. An article or chapter that opens with lit review - without first hooking me with something that I actually care about or without letting me know what the writer actually cares about - only to get to the point many paragraphs in, if ever at all, is lame.
  
• I like literary criticism that really enters into conversation with its secondary sources - whether critical or theoretical. While it's important to me that an article or book demonstrate scholarly breadth, I'm annoyed when a writer uses quotes from sources to move quickly from one idea to the next without analyzing the sources or showing me why this source is useful in this context. You know you've read those articles, if you're in my field, where the whole thing is quotation after quotation linked together like a great collage of other people's ideas without very much insight actually provided on the page by the author. In these cases, I guess we're supposed to intuit what the author thinks of all of this quoted stuff?
• Literary criticism should make a clear argument about a "way of reading" and it should make the reader see the primary literary text(s) in a new way. The fact is, there are books and articles that I've entirely disagreed with but that do an excellent job of this and that, for that reason, I find compelling. The point is not whether a piece "backs up" the ideas that I've already got. Good pieces of literary criticism aren't separated into two piles - the ones that "back me up" and the ones that are "stupid" or "wrong" or "bad." In fact, the more criticism I read, the more I realize that if I entirely agree with a piece, if I feel no need to talk back, then that's a bad sign.
  
• Literary criticism should care about audience, and that should be evident through the rhythm of the prose (varying sentence structure and sentence length), through word choice, through clear sign-posting in a piece (reminding the reader where they've been and anticipating where they will go), through organization and structure that is easy to follow. Seriously. Being obscure is not a virtue in this genre. The point of literary criticism is, ultimately, to communicate something to an audience in a way that is clear without sacrificing sophistication. That's what makes it fun to write (and, in the best cases, fun to read). I'm not talking about dumbing down here, or about writing journalistically. But if your reader doesn't know what the heck is going on, or gets lost in jargon, or can't figure out what your piece has to do with the title, or figure out what exactly the argument is or how it's being supported, well, that's a problem.
• Notes are an excellent thing, for directing a reader to useful sources and for expanding on a briefly made point. That said, one needs to exercise discretion in using them (I hate it when there are oodles of distracting and unnecessary notes that take me away from the actual article or book) or when people don't use them at all, and just throw everything into the main text (also distracting).
• Literary criticism shouldn't be all argument and no context/support. The writer has to back up the claims in the piece and to put them into a critical (and theoretical or historical, where appropriate) context. Argument is central, but it alone with primary text support is not enough.
  

Now. You might say that this is a list that is pretty obvious, if we're thinking about literary studies in the 21st century.

And, if one confines one's reading to books that are put out by the best presses and articles that are put out by the best journals, all of which appeared in the past 10-15 years, usually one doesn't find these sorts of things with any kind of regularity. If, however, one burrows into the labyrinth of regional journals, journals that are basically conference proceedings, journals where established scholars never publish, books published by smaller presses, well, the above are more common than one would want them to be. And if one's research takes one back into stuff published pre-1990, or pre-1980, well, you see a lot of these things there, too. Depending on the specific thing that one is researching, too, one may not run into these things all that often. But if you research on something that is in any way obscure, you find yourself going to these sorts of sources because there are only 15 or 20 sources on your topic and you can't avoid them.

My point here isn't to dismiss things that appear in smaller or less rigorous venues out of hand (in my experience, I've found some gems in such venues, especially when the venue focuses on a specific author, for example), nor is it to dismiss scholarship that was produced in previous decades. First of all, just because one may see the above more frequently there, it doesn't mean that one will only see this kind of scholarship. Second, even if one encounters an article that does one or more of the above, there still may be worthwhile ideas to explore and with which to enter into conversation hidden within the irritating things. But in terms of my own writing, I don't want to bury my awesome ideas in irritating things, and I don't want my students to do that either.

Which brings me to the issue of communicating the above things to students - in my case, primarily undergraduate students. I think that there are probably three pieces to this for me: 1) teaching students effective strategies for research and reading criticism, 2) designing assignments that offer the students steps and breakdown the process for producing intelligible literary criticism of their own, 3) giving lots of feedback on students' own efforts at writing about literature. I'm going to limit my discussion here to stuff I do in upper-level literature classes for undergraduates.

1) Teaching students effective strategies for research and for reading criticism.

1. I spend time in every upper-level class teaching students about writing with research. This involves talking about the differences between primary (literary) sources, theoretical sources, and secondary (critical) sources, and talking about how one integrates multiple kinds of sources into one's academic writing within the discipline of literary studies. Yes, these students have had composition classes. No, they did not learn how to do this with any kind of sophistication, not even when they had me for composition. The emphasis in required composition courses tends to be on researching responsibly and on writing in a general way with clarity. These are great foundations. They are not, however, the end of a student's education as an academic writer. The level of my students' writing in literature classes improved demonstrably when I started spending time in my lit classes on writing within the discipline.
2. I spend time in every upper-level class teaching students about "why" we use different kinds of sources, and what different kinds of sources provide in terms of fleshing out our ideas. I talk about the publication process that an article goes through vs. that of a book. I talk about the necessity of using a range of sources, and using recent sources and not just old ones. I talk about where non-scholarly sources might fit into their papers, and about why non-scholarly sources can't be the only ones that they use (although I do not prohibit their use outright). I talk about determining the quality of a publication venue, and about how to evaluate the bibliographies of publications both to determine quality of a piece and to supplement their own independent research.
   
3. I take every upper-level course to the library for advanced instruction on searching and using the best databases for literary research. We have great librarians, and they encourage me to participate and to offer comments within the library instruction. They also tailor the instruction to my specific requests for each class, so even if a student had library instruction in another upper-level class with me, they learn something new each time.
   
4. I assign students an annotated bibliography, and we talk about how to scan sources in a way that is efficient for that assignment. I show students how to do reverse outlines of critical sources, where they should read carefully and where they should skim in order to boil an article down into a three sentence annotation that is useful as they move forward with their research. The annotated bibliography is due with their topic proposals, so it is framed as a beginning point in research - not as a plagiarism detection strategy, although it does help to cut down on plagiarism because it gets them researching early. It also allows me to give them feedback on the kinds of sources that they're finding, and for me to suggest sources that they're missing. (Because these are upper-level classes, I can easily direct them to sources in the field with which they aren't familiar with no actual legwork on my part. I can't do this as effectively when I teach comp because they're not typically writing on anything in my actual research area.)
5. I talk about using sources as context for one's own ideas - not just to justify one's claims and not just as straw men to beat down with one's claims. I also talk about how to take a source that is not directly on one's topic and to integrate it into one's paper.

2) Designing assignments that offer the students steps and breakdown the process for producing intelligible literary criticism of their own.

1. The first assignment I give my students is a presentation assignment. The student has to get background on a topic, to do some basic research, to connect the topic and background to the day's reading, and to offer a close reading of a passage from that reading that shows how it illustrates the topic. This allows each student to be an "expert" in one class meeting, and it allows them to practice some skills that they will need to engage in their written assignments.
   
2. The second type of assignment is typically one that is primary-text oriented. Usually, I do a version of an assignment that I had as an undergraduate, in which students must present a fully developed argument about a passage in something that we read (their choice) in just one page (they can single-space). What makes my version of this assignment different from when I did it as a student is that I give them an assignment sheet that breaks down what they need to do in that one page and gives clear instructions about what must be included for them to succeed. They do this assignment four or five times throughout the semester, so that they can take the comments from each submission into account and to grow as critical readers of primary text materials and as critics of primary texts in their writing. I'm typically really tough on the shorter primary-text assignments, and typically that results in my students becoming much stronger writers. I can be tough because these assignments are very low-stakes in terms of the percentage of the grade that they affect.
   
3. Finally, they do a research paper, and that assignment has two components: a) a proposal of an original topic with an annotated bibliography, and that proposal has clear instructions about what they must include, which basically mirror what a person includes when they submit an abstract for a conference in the field; b) the paper itself (though I have been building in a draft workshop day about a week before the paper is due). This assignment involves developing skills that the presentation and the short papers introduce them to.

3) Giving lots of feedback on students' own efforts at writing about literature.

1. I comment extensively and directly on students' writing. I do not beat around the bush, nor do I spend much time on unequivocal praise. Not all students like this. However, when I give unequivocal praise, it's because the student truly deserves it - not because I had to go digging for something to make them feel good. Nevertheless, I care a lot about offering constructive feedback. I want students to know that I'm really reading their work, and that I'm really engaging with their ideas and with their writing. While I may not offer unequivocal praise on every paper, I do offer positive feedback on every paper, though usually with suggestions for how to make what they are doing even stronger. I do not spend inordinate amounts of time on nitpicky stuff (grammar, punctuation, etc.) but I spend a great deal of time on structure, argument, and analysis/exposition. I also try, where appropriate, to give feedback on stylistic things like varying sentence structure, avoiding passive sentence construction, etc.
2. I spend lots of time meeting with students in person about their writing. You know how professors complain that students never come to them when they need help? So not a problem that I have. Why? Well, I insist that students make an appointment with me if they are really struggling, and I am not above holding papers hostage to get them into my office. I also positively reinforce students coming to see me by offering concrete and useful feedback on drafts, and I encourage students who take advantage of this to spread it around that it's helpful. It usually takes a couple of months to get things up and running with new students, but by semester's end, it's not uncommon for me to spend at least 3-5 hours a week in the last three weeks or so meeting with students about their papers. It's time well spent. I get awesome papers because I offer this one-on-one time, and the grading FLIES by.

When one moves out of the classroom context, to things like thesis advising, I think that the above strategies still apply, it's just that one is tailoring the "assignments" to the specific student and the specific project. I've had to think a lot about how to advise BES on breaking down her project into bite-sized chunks, about how to let her go her own way as much as is possible but to intervene when necessary when she's not getting where she needs to go on her own, and how to give her ownership over the project while at the same time guiding her through it. These things aren't entirely distinct from what I do in my classes, but because they are tailor-made to one person, it's been a challenge to keep myself in check and not to dominate the project. There are things that I, were this my project, would have approached differently, but it's not my project. I find in a classroom context that I rarely feel the investment that I feel with BES's project, and I rarely wish that I could just make my students do things my way, which I do sometimes feel in regard to BES and her thesis. But so thinking about my advisement of her in terms of creating assignments has been useful because it does keep me out of it, at least to some extent.

But so to conclude, you may be wondering, now that I've pontificated about all of this stuff, what my pitfalls are as a literary critic. Well, let me tell you. I've always been good with argument, but I've always had a weakness with really fleshing out my support. It's because I think what I think is totally obvious and all right-thinking people should see what I think is clearly the right way to think, without me actually developing my ideas fully. This is something that I've improved a great deal since graduate school, but it's still an issue in my writing. I have to be very careful about convoluted and passive sentence structure. Sign-posting and clear and tight structure are something of a battle for me. I am, however, very good at entering into conversation with theory and criticism, as long as I bother to include it in the first place. And I'm very good at the opening hook, I think. So I don't write all of the above as if I don't continue to work very hard at my own writing, as if I know everything there is to know about writing literary criticism, or as if I've resolved all of my own writing issues. Nah, that's just not the case. But I do think about the writing part of literary criticism a lot, and I work really hard to do literary critical writing well and to teach my students how to do it well.

I've wasted enough time. Need to shower and put my writing outfit on in order to get going with that R&R. Wish me luck!

Grad School Makes a Snob of Us All, But Usually I Fight the Impulse

Except for when I don't, that is.

Here's the thing. The place where I did my Ph.D. is not the most highly ranked school in the whole world. It's not too shabby, but in terms of those Big Lists of Where Programs Rank, it's not one of the ones featured in the top 10 or even in the top 25. Now, there are lots of reasons for this, few of which have to do with placement of its grads in t-t positions or with the success of its Ph.D.s once they end up on the tenure track. Basically, those big lists are based entirely on surveys, and since my program is a small one (because as far back as when I was admitted in 1997 they were already limiting the number of people that they admitted to fit how many people they could fully fund for 4 years, which meant my entering cohort numbered a whopping 6 or 7 people, if memory serves) and because the department itself has just one or two people covering each primary field in literary study (as opposed to having a slew of faculty for each specialization, so yes, I took classes all over the map during coursework and never TAd for a professor in my actual field), well, it's not necessarily going to do the greatest by the standards of the ranking people. That said, I was surprised to realize only after I'd gotten in just how stiff the competition is to get admitted to this program, and I was surprised to realize after I graduated just how highly people seem to regard me once they find out where I did the Ph.D. Anecdotally, I can tell you that the highest praise I've heard about the program is that it turns out, without fail, original scholars - scholars who aren't just shadowing their mentors but who really do independently interesting work. I can also tell you that as of when I finished the program (not sure about the stats now), my program placed more of its grads in t-t positions within 3 years than did Harvard (a number 1 program according to those who rank).

Now, I give all of this background to indicate a few different things. First, I'd never have applied there if I'd realized how good of a program it was. I went to a mediocre regional university for undergrad (unranked), and stepped up to what at the time was a top 75 grad program at a large urban public for the MA (they've since risen in the rankings). My Ph.D. program was a "reach" but I thought at the time that it was a reasonable one. (Apparently, after being on the wait list and somebody cooler than me passing their offer up, it was. But looking back now, I'd never have applied there.) So, I wasn't naturally inclined to snobbery, or to thinking that I was "worthy" of ending up at a top institution. Second, though, this was a grad program in the Northeast, and its faculty did think quite highly of themselves (and rightly so, I should add). So whatever my inclinations before I entered the Ph.D. program, I did learn how to be a snob there. I learned the difference in how people treated me with Fancy U. on my nametag at conferences, and I learned from my peers, who had gone to Ivys and Elite SLACS for undergrad, to look upon those in Lesser Programs with derision. (Needless to say, I didn't mention my humble beginnings much.) And I learned from my mentors what "real scholarship" is "supposed" to look like, and to perform scathing critiques of anything that didn't fit that model.

So, ending up at my current institution in a tenure-track gig meant I needed a bit of an attitude adjustment. I mean, first of all, that institutional affiliation on my nametag doesn't inspire people to chat me up anymore, unless they want to ask about how I'm surviving living in a place where people have three teeth, don't wear shoes, and marry their cousins. (Note: I'm actually in an urban area, but this is the stereotype of the whole state, an unfair one.) Second, my students are so not about the snobbery. Not only is it just not part of their m.o. personally, but also they will call you out on it if you display it in their presence. And not in a good way. Third, in order to be happy here, I had to stop caring quite so much about where I "rank" and where my students "rank." That's not to say that I don't push myself (I do) or my students (they'd probably be the first to tell you that I push them far more than they would like), but I push myself because I still have ideas that I'd like to pursue, and I push my students because I want them to have ideas. All of that rankings static doesn't mean much to me, in my current role. And yet, sometimes that educated snobbery rears its ugly head.

I was having a meeting a while back with BES about her senior thesis. (Incidentally, she's doing tremendously interesting work, but WOW am I needing to play mind games with her to get her to do it! She's pulling all of the things I remember pulling when I was dissertating - the freaking out, the avoidance, the anger, the refusal to revise, the apologies, the feelings of inadequacy, the elation.... all of it. It's very exhausting to go through this again from the other side.) Now, let's note that I'm pushing her to do work beyond what I really would expect her to do for a senior thesis. She can do more than that, so why not encourage (read: force) her to do that, right? She says she wants grad school, so better to let her know that expectation now than later, right? (Note: I've also let her know that she's already far exceeded the bar for a senior thesis, so I'm not totally sadistic here. She claims, on good days, that she wants to be pushed further.) But so anyway. We were having this meeting, and she'd recently returned to the secondary criticism to beef up her claims, and she mentioned that she came across this article that by the title had seemed like it would be awesome, but when she read it, the person was doing all of the things that I always tell her not to do, and she totally thought that it sucked and totally got why I tell her not to do those things because she hated reading something by somebody else who was doing them.

Now, good professor that I am, I wanted to know what the article was. I wanted to be sure that she wasn't just setting up a straw man (or lady) but that she was really engaging critically. I really didn't start off thinking that I was doing anything more than that. So she showed me the citation. And this is when the beastie of my Inner Grad-School-Educated Snob reared its ugly head. I should note that this only was possible because BES and I are "friends" of a sort, and so I sometimes forget that she's my "student" per se, but rather think of her as a junior colleague. This is no excuse for what follows, but it is an explanation.

First, I saw where the person had published the offending article. Before I even knew what I was saying, I dismissed the article because "that's not a real journal - everybody knows that." I then went on to explain all of the reasons why it's not a "real" journal. (Let's just note for the record that I've published in venues that aren't rigorously peer-reviewed, though they are important venues in my specific areas of interest, and while I'd argue that these are more meritorious than the journal that so offended me, others might say the exact same thing about places I've published.) Where things got out of control was that I then looked up the article in a database, and said, "Oh GOD! You're so right! This is awful!" which wouldn't necessarily have been the worst thing in the world to do, but then I proceeded to google the writer of the article.

I know. I'm a total asshole. And yet, the universe rewarded my googling with a wealth of information. The author received hir Ph.D. from an unranked institution, all of hir publications were of similarly low quality, and ze worked at a religiously affiliated institution (think statement of faith) in, well, I'll just say it, in Texas. I then waxed catty about all of the ways in which this piece of scholarship was wrong, based on the fact of it, and explained how the fact of it was underwritten by all of the googled information.

It was at this moment that Awesome Colleague from Another Department (ACAD from this point forward, and let's just say that she also has an awesome baby - well, toddler - who loves 90s dance music and will burst into song with lyrics like "Girl.... booty round... I just wanna... down" at the dinner table, and he is, indeed, also bilingual, and he is AWESOME) called across the hallway (her office is across from mine, and our doors were open), "CRAZY! I can't believe you! [guffaw] I never knew you had it in you!"

This brought me back to my senses, and I explained to BES that I'm a snob, and a bad person, and that this is why you don't want to go to graduate school, because seriously, it can instill such jerkitude in a person who is, like me, without couth. BES, sweet student that she is, said, "Dr. Crazy! You were just being honest! And I hated the article before you told me all of that!" And I said, "You shouldn't encourage me! I am not a generous person! I am bad!"

And then we giggled. Indeed. She and I giggled together. I have encouraged her through my bad behavior to emulate my bad tendencies. It's really quite sick. And it's exactly what happened to me throughout my education. I thought such horrifying snobbery was "cool." It is so not cool!

But then, in all of the rage-inducing curricular nonsense, what I realize is that while I may exhibit bad behavior that looks like (and even is) snobbishness from time to time, I'm not, ultimately, an actual snob. Actual snobs are about keeping people out. They're about keeping things "exclusive." What I'm about is not that. I'm actually totally about inclusivity. Now, I'll admit: a prejudice reared its ugly head when I saw the journal in which the article was published. But all of the subsequent info that I got - the institutional affiliation and institution that granted the Ph.D. - all of that wouldn't have mattered if when I saw the article I would have judged it awesome. All of that other stuff was ultimately secondary to my judgment of the article. This is not to diminish the ways in which I am a jerk, or to justify them, but it is to say that I made my judgment long before I found out more information about the author. The information that I found out confirmed my judgment, but it didn't make it for me.

What actual snobbishness is, in my recent experience, has nothing to do with how the snob (so-called) perceives the quality of scholarship or knowledge or teaching or anything else. It doesn't have to do with where an object of derision publishes, nor does it have to do with what that person publishes. Actual snobbishness has to do with trading on your grad program (highly ranked) as a way of putting yourself above other people (colleagues), even though you've not developed more than 5 new courses in your time at this institution (6+ years) and even though you've published in a fashion that is mediocre for this institution and inadequate for any instituion with more prestige. But you went to a fancy grad program! You're special! You know more than any of your colleagues, junior or senior, even if those people whom you claim to know more than have published books, went to excellent grad programs, teach amazing and innovative courses! All of the work that those people are doing, well, it just doesn't really count, does it? Because you've got this pedigree from an institution of rank. (And yes, I'm using rank here with the connotation of stinky firmly in my mind. Although, I'll say this, one of my most awesome mentors - unaccountably - got her Ph.D. at the same place. So all things are not created equal, even in this instance. In other words, the issue here is not the program. It's how people who went through the progam are using the fact that they did so for their own ends.)

I still feel badly about inviting BES into my snobbery in the way that I did. I don't think that it was necessary, or that I really taught her very much by doing that. If I had it to do over, I would probably have validated her sense that the article wasn't good, but I wouldn't have gone to the efforts that I did to diss the writer of that article. That was lame of me. It's not something I'd like to repeat, nor is it something that I'm proud of.

That said? If I've got to be a snob, I'd rather be the kind that exerts that tendency toward making my students do better. I'd rather be the kind that doesn't think that the fact that I went to X grad school means shit; I'd rather think that I'm the kind who thinks that what matters is her book. I'd so much rather care about making something new out of what I've learned than about remaking what I myself experienced as a student, as if that is "the best," just by virtue of it being what I myself experienced. Sure, doing something new might be a mistake. But isn't making a new mistake better than perpetrating an old one upon one's students? Just because it's the done thing? Just because you need to validate your own experience? And authorizing that with your pedigree? That's being an actual snob. And that's not what I am.

Perhaps I'm just a recreational snob? Yep. I think that's about right. But at least I am sensible enough to know that even recreational snobbery sucks.

The 25 Influential Writers Meme - Consider Yourself Tagged

Undine and Horace tagged me for this one, and lots of people are doing it, and this seems like a perfect way to kick off the spring break blogging.

The rules are this: " you name 25 writers who have influenced you. These are not necessarily your favorite writers or those you most admire, but writers who have influenced you. Then you tag 25 people." 25 is a lot of people to tag, so just consider yourself tagged if you're interested.

I like how Horace did his list as a sort of "this is your life" so I'm going to pick that up, too, but I'm also a fan of limiting myself, so I'm sticking with just 25. And so, I'll be working basically chronologically from childhood to now. I'll happily give further info on any of my choices in the comments if people ask.

1. The Brothers Grimm.
2. Laura Ingalls Wilder.
3. Lucy Maud Montgomery.
4. Charlotte Bronte.
5. Charles Dickens.
6. J.D. Salinger.
7. Emily Dickinson.
   
8. Sylvia Plath.
9. Joseph Conrad.
10. Virginia Woolf.
11. D.H. Lawrence.
12. Margaret Atwood.
    
13. William Shakespeare.
14. Marge Piercy.
15. Doris Lessing.
16. T.S. Eliot.
    
17. William Carlos Williams.
18. Laura Mulvey.
19. Jean Rhys.
    
20. James Joyce.
21. Judith Butler.
22. Michel Foucault.
23. Roland Barthes.
24. Helene Cixous.
25. Salman Rushdie.
    

Advice for the Newly Hired - Regional Comprehensive Edition

Gayprof over at Center of Gravitas has a great post up in which he gives advice for those lucky few who've secured t-t positions in this hiring season. I love that Gayprof, and I love that he always has nifty pictures of Wonder Woman to illustrate his posts. I'm lame about illustrations. Clearly I don't use all of the tools at my disposal for making my blog attractive and pleasing to the eye. I often leave Gayprof's blog (and Historiann's, and Tenured Radical's, and...) thinking that I should step it up in this regard, and yet, well, I'm lazy and I lack the motivation really to make that little extra effort to find good pics. But I digress.

In his post, Gayprof explores the difficulty of the transition between grad student to tenure-track professor, and I'm board with his general premise:

It got me to thinking that the transition from graduate student to junior professor is often the most difficult one that people make. Few people ever discuss how hard it really is.

There are definitely good parts to that transition. Your annual income triples or even quadruples. You get genuine office space. You also can finally claim to have a real “career” rather than appearing as if you made “poor life choices.”

But there are also real struggles to that transition. As a graduate student, you are given free reign to do almost anything that you desire and have few demands placed upon you. Your advisor and/or committee members probably read things that you wrote with a critical eye and gave good feedback. You are shielded from internal squabbles between faculty members, if you are even aware that they are occurring. With the exception of the occasional TA assignment, your job has been one of luxury, simply reading and writing all day. It’s a rude awakening to find out how many other things that you will have to do as a professor. Dirty, dirty things.

But as Gayprof moves to discuss his tips for the newly hired, I noticed that some of his advice differs widely from the advice I would give. Lots of his advice is oriented around keeping publishing front and center as the primary job duty that one must fulfill. This is great advice if one gets a job at a research university. Excellent and important advice. But lots of us end up on the tenure track at institutions that are not research universities, at universities that don't even gesture toward becoming research universities (whether those are research-oriented slacs or large institutions with graduate programs that produce the next generation of the professoriate). No, lots of us end up in that elsewhere of the 4-year regional comprehensive or the 4-year mediocre slac. No, these are not community colleges, and there is still some component of research that is part of the job. Lots of times people act like there are only two choices: R1 or Community College. NOT SO! Indeed, there are LOADS of institutions that fall in the elsewhere in between those two poles, and a different set of advice is in order if you happened to get hired at one of those institutions.

And so, with that in mind, I thought I'd give my own set of tips for the newly hired from the perspective of one who works in the elswhere. Like Gayprof, I'm not holding my career up as some sort of a perfect model, but hey, I have learned some stuff in the past 6 years, and perhaps what I offer here will be of use to some new hires.

*Do publish, but use your time efficiently, recognize that this is not the primary thing on which you need to spend your time, and don't be surprised if your senior colleagues care a great deal about your work that isn't research-related, in terms of recommending you for tenure.

This first piece of advice probably goes against everything you've ever heard from your mentors or anecdotally about what it means to be a college professor. It goes against your training. It even goes against Gayprof's first piece of advice, kind of. I agree that if your university has a publication requirement for tenure that you need to be sure to meet it. But, and this is an important but, if you get a job with a 4/4 load (or even a 3/3 load where you're teaching around 100 students a semester with no TAs and with multiple preps), it's likely that your publication requirement doesn't exceed a few well-placed articles and regular presentations at conferences. So no, I'd never advise people to drop research altogether, but I would advise that slow and steady wins the race. If you devote yourself to your research, letting other things fall by the wayside, you may well fail to achieve tenure. Think about your university's mission. Is the mission about service and teaching? If so, you'd better meet the minimum standards there, too. You'd better not say no to every request to serve on committees, and you'd better be innovative and invested in your teaching. If you want to publish more than the bare minimum, recognize that you need to take the time to make that happen out of your own personal time, and not out of the time that you need to spend on your other job duties. Find ways to let your teaching prep double as research, and involve undergraduates in your research where appropriate. Don't waste your time publishing on stuff outside of your teaching areas prior to tenure (because it takes more time), and be sure that you place your publications (even if they are few) in venues that definitely "count" toward the tenure decision. Recognize that you were not hired to be a scholar first and a professor (with all that entails) second, and recognize that your colleagues may fear that you are trying to "publish your way out" or to use the job as a "stepping stone to better things" if you appear to be excessively oriented to research, and that you'll need to assuage any fears that they have about that or run the risk of appearing "uncollegial."

*Wear comfortable shoes.

This is good advice no matter what kind of institution hired you. Note, however, that comfort doesn't have to mean "not stylish." Who doesn't love shoes that are both stylish and comfortable?

*Don't confuse yourself with grad school colleagues who ended up at research universities, with your dissertation adviser, or with that colleague down the hall who for the past 25 years is the "person in the department who publishes."

This is not unlike Gayprof's piece of advice, in which he notes that junior faculty have to put in the time and the work to prove their status as researchers. However, there's another layer in the context of a university like mine, in that junior faculty do need to adjust their expectations for what is achievable in this institutional context. It's not just about putting in the time and the effort to get those lines on the cv, though surely that's part of it. It's also about holding your tongue and maintaining perspective about where you work. Nobody likes that junior colleague who complains ad nauseum about how it's "impossible" to do "good work" at an institution like mine, least of all the people who are managing to do "good work" in spite of the challenges of doing so at this sort of institution.

*Look for the positive in your own institutional context, and look for how you can exploit the positive.

This goes along with adjusting one's expectations, as I suggested in the previous tip. One thing that's great about working at a place where the research expectations are low is that they are typically also pretty flexible. You have the freedom to pursue new interests in your research, you can teach outside of your dissertation field which allows you to explore new ideas and approaches, and you can feel a lot less pressure about publication, which for some people (i.e., me) can actually make research a less fraught enterprise. I've felt a lot of freedom in terms of my research precisely because I'm not at an institution that has high expectations for it. I've enjoyed my research more in this context than I ever did during graduate school, where I felt a lot more pressure about it. I'm a lot more fearless about sending stuff out or trying new things because I'm not doing it to try to jump through a hoop or over a bar. That can, ultimately, be a really positive thing, and I do think that if one sees it that way, it can have positive effects on one's profile outside of the university at which one was hired.

*Drinking, ah, drinking. Keep it in check or you'll suck in the classroom.

We people with 4/4 loads can't afford to be fuzzy in the classroom, and we're there more than we're at home chilling with our ideas and our manuscripts for our books. That said, a well-placed bottle of wine can do wonders. :)

*Teaching multiple preps, whether at three or four classes a semester, most of them outside of the area of your dissertation, is hard freaking work. Don't think that you can be a good teacher without putting in that work. That said, also learn to work efficiently as a teacher, or you'll become a zombie who is a slave to grading. Teaching expands to fill the time you give it. If you give it an infinite amount of time, it will take an infinite amount of time.

I remember a conversation with a friend of mine who got a t-t job at Top Ivy right out of grad school, who was teaching a 1-1 load. He was astonished that I'd managed to publish anything or to do any research (as are my grad school mentors, come to think of it). In conversation with Top Ivy friend, it became apparent that he would spend whole days prepping for his one class, spend whole days grading. Let's just say that this is not a sensible approach to teaching, particularly with a heavy teaching load. You've got to cut down on the prep time and the grading time in order to save yourself from ultimate collapse. Easier said than done, right? BUT, if you don't do that, you will come to resent teaching and you'll be a crappy teacher. The best advice I can give is the following: 1) Take lots of time on syllabus design and assignment design, making sure that you think about how assignments affect your schedule and about what assignments are supposed to do for students. It's better to have three well-designed assignments than 7 crappily designed ones. That time spent on the front end makes a huge difference during the semester. Winging it typically does not do you any favors. 2) Teach the same material (or use the same assignments), but in different ways, in multiple contexts. This means that prep for the survey can double as prep for the intro course, for example. 3) Once you've got a course "in the can" don't change more than one or two things in a given semester to freshen a course up. 4) Use rubrics or checklists to minimize writing the same comments over and over again. 5) Let students do the work for you. Active learning is better than passive learning, and spending the time to design active assignments for students pays off in terms of what they get out of a course and in terms of the time that you need to spend on the course once it's up and running. 6) Understand that you need to work really hard to figure out what works in the classroom, to educate yourself about different learning styles, and to grow as a teacher. If you phone it in without putting in that work, your evaluations will show that. And yes, evaluations do matter.

* Be generous to all of your colleagues, including senior ones who got tenure without any publications, or who haven't published for 20 years but who have long institutional memories and do service out the wazoo.

On the one hand, I like Gayprof's advice about being generous to people in your cohort of junior faculty because those people are in the same boat with you and can be great allies if you all stay at the instituion and great colleagues even if they or you move on to greener pastures. But at my kind of institution, I think it can be much more typical for people to be in league with their fellow junior folks against the oldsters whom the juniors perceive as "dead wood." You know what I've come to realize? Those people who maybe didn't publish a lick and still got tenure are often the very people who make the university run. They serve on multiple university-wide committees, they decide on hires, they recommend people for tenure. Just because their career trajectory doesn't look like mine, it doesn't mean that they are worthy of my derision. And in fact, I've learned a lot from those people - maybe not about my research or about publication, but about all of those other parts of the job that I didn't get trainted to do in graduate school.

*Getting a job involved a lot of luck in your favor.

Yes, even at No-Name State University. Even at Middle-of-the Road SLAC. In this market, at least 25% of the people who apply for a given job at my university are probably "worthy" of being hired. Getting hired here doesn't mean that you were "special" or "most meritorious." On the other side of the coin, nor does it mean that you "weren't good enough" to get hired at a Research University. No-Name State University isn't "lucky" to have you, as if other candidates wouldn't have been able to match your qualifications, and you may well be a strong enough candidate to have been "qualified" for someplace better. Even here, in my department, in competitive fields, we typically see upwards of 150 applications. With that kind of pool, anybody who gets a job gets lucky. Even if the job is not a Dream Job, by your grad program's standards.

* Manage your career for the expectations of your field, not your current university or your department.

Yes, and no. Yes because if you don't then you'll feel like a loser. No, in that I do think that mobility from this sort of institution up the academic food chain is a lot harder to achieve than one might think. It makes sense to be happy where you are, and if you can't do that if your eye is always on what might have been or what might happen someday, that can be really demoralizing. I know that I became a lot happier in this job when I started thinking about my career as being part of my current institution. That's not to say I would never move, or that I think it's good to ignore the expectations of one's field. I suppose I fall somewhere in the middle on this one: manage your career for the expectations of your field, but don't ignore the expectations of your current university or department in doing so. In saying that, I'm not advocating "drinking the kool-aid" and being unswervingly loyal to one's institution, but I am saying that regardless of what you achieve in your field, you may never be able to move someplace "better" - or if you are able, it may happen after a much longer slog than you initially anticipate, because you won't be able to keep up with people who start off higher up on the food chain than you do. Of course you should try to get out and make a lateral move if your department or university is toxic. But it's also important to be realistic about the fact that moving might not be possible, especially after tenure.

* There is no “in” crowd in academia, or, even if you are at an institution like mine, you may still end up in an "in" crowd.

I think what Gayprof says about there not being an "in" crowd and the pointlessness of trying to gain access to the cool kids' lunch-table is pretty good advice. I suppose I'd say in addition, though, that a lot of people mistakenly think that one can only be part of an "in" crowd if they are at a top research university. Not true, in my experience. There are lots of "in" crowds, and membership basically depends on being an interesting and engaged scholar. People care about your scholarship - not about your institutional affiliation - at a certain level. And if they don't, well, then why do you want to be part of their stupid "in" group?

* Tenure is not the end.

Agreed. I'll add that this is true both in terms of publications at my university but also in terms of teaching and service. Sure, you're not doing stuff just to bean-count anymore - adding lines onto your cv like clockwork - but rather to show continued investment in ideas, in students, in university governance. Those things matter, and, I think, should continue to matter.

*If you start a blog, be clear about what you hope to get out of it and about the risks involved.

I'd never say never start a blog, even tongue in cheek. Blogging has provided me with a great community of folks in academia, a sense of community that I don't necessarily get at my job. Working at this kind of university can feel alienating sometimes, especially as one makes the transition from grad student to the tenure track. Having bloggy peeps has really made a huge difference in my feeling connected to the wider profession. That said, it's important to define an online persona that reflects a persona that you'd be comfortable having even if real life folks found you out, and it's important to understand that blogging is not good if it takes away from the real academic work that you need to accomplish. If you think that a blog can be a transparent and thoughtless bitch-fest about your colleagues, for which you have no responsibility, I'd advise against doing it. But if you think that blogging will allow you to think about your life as a professor, about your discipline, or about issues in the profession, and you think that you can write on a blog in ways that don't upset you personally or upset your work or your job prospects, well, maybe it's ok. I'm so glad that I blog. I think that it's good for me. But it may not be good for everybody, and one has to exercise caution and think about consequences.

***

So that's my take on the whole transition thing, and some tips that I wish somebody had given me starting out. There are a lot of common points between what I write here and what Gayprof wrote, but I think it's useful to get a variety of takes on how this transition works in a variety of institutional contexts.

Welcome to the Club (a Post NOT about Rage)

Well, although the rage-inducing things have something to do with it actually. I've been venting a lot on the blog lately because I've needed to do so. It's not generally the sort of tone I like to hit on this here blog, and I think it's about time for some positivity.

One of the best things that's been going on with me lately has to do with the huge amounts of support and acknowledgment that I've been getting from the vast majority of my colleagues. It's crazy: as much as the current goings on leave me feeling angry and filled with disgust at the minority, when I take a moment to count my blessings (as my little grandma would have told me to do weeks ago were she alive), well, I realize that these feelings are not the most important ones that I'm having - just the most obvious and the most distracting.

The other side of the rage and disgust coin is, actually, real and deep feelings of pride, belonging, community, and satisfaction - all inspired by the work that I'm doing and by the relationships I'm developing with so many of my colleagues with whom I'd previously not had a huge amount of contact. My favorite bright spot over the past couple of weeks happened when a veteran of my department popped over to my office and, chuckling, began the following interchange:

Battle-Scarred Veteran: Well, Crazy, I just thought I'd come by to tell you congratulations! You've been inducted into the club where you perform backbreaking service that's central to the department and to making the university better and for that work you get treated badly by your colleagues! Kudos to you!

Crazy: Why, I don't know what to say! I'm just so proud to have achieved this status so quickly after getting the tenure letter!

BSV: As you should be! We're an elite group you know!

We bantered in this fashion for a couple of minutes, and it gave me the first laugh I've had at work outside of the classroom in weeks.

I've also forged a much closer relationship with my chair, who I really think is phenomenal, I've had tea and commiseration in another colleague's office, I've received lovely emails of thanks and support.

And perhaps better than all of that, we'd done a temperature-taking sort of vote about the progress thus far, and there was lots of participation and a very clear sense that the vast majority of people are on board with the process thus far (a), that with tweaking things look like they will move forward in a fashion that I think is really positive (b), and that those loud few who've been giving me shit do not have meaningful support for their position (and that their tactics of domination are not actually working in the way that they thought that they would) (c).

More than anything - more than the stress, more than the anger, more than the personal offense I've taken - I feel proud. Proud of the work that I'm doing, and proud to have so many truly wonderful colleagues. And, more than I have since I signed my contract for this job almost exactly 6 years ago, I feel like I am truly a part of the life of this institution. The work that I'm doing isn't just about my own professional development or my own edification. I'm not doing this work for a line on my cv, nor am I doing it thinking that I'll get a better raise (or any raise at all), nor am I doing it because I "have" to do it. I'm doing it because this is what you do when you get tenure someplace: you work to make it better. You fight those battles that as junior faculty you don't have the protection to fight. You throw yourself into the hard stuff, because now the hard stuff is your business, and it's worth it to pursue it. Getting tenure doesn't mean that all of a sudden you can give voice to all of your petty concerns, nor does it mean that you now have the "academic freedom" to piss all over things that you disagree with. No, it means that you have the "academic freedom" really to make a difference - not just to students or to your stature in the discipline, but to your workplace.

Now, don't get me wrong. When all is said and done, I'm going to trade on this service for at least a year or two. No more big fights for me, not for a while, thank you very much. I'm not a martyr, and I'm also not a person who gets off on being constantly pissed off. I hate being this angry, and I hate having to do what's best politically even when it makes me feel sick to my stomach. I hate having to keep my mouth shut for the greater good, keeping my eye on the prize as it were, when I feel like people are acting in bad faith. That is so not my m.o. And I look forward to that moment when this process has reached its conclusion and I can tell some people in no uncertain terms what I think of them. (I probably won't do this, actually, but thinking about being able to gives me a sense of calm and happiness right now.)

I should probably acknowledge that I'm not totally altruistic as I'm moving forward. I'm also taking intense pleasure in exposing the haters for what they really are, and I'm taking intense pleasure in watching them show their true colors and the way that their capital in the department is plunging in direct proportion to that. And, let's be honest: I'm encouraging that downward spiral in some subtle ways, and that is mean-spirited and not terribly mature. I'm not proud of myself for that, but at the same time, well, I'm not really doing anything directly. I'm just giving people enough rope with which to hang themselves. If they choose to slip the noose around their necks, well, they're doing it to themselves. There have been lots of moments in the past few months where those people could have made choices that were different, and had they done so, they'd be in a much better position now. In fact, it might have been that a version of what they want would be the one with the most departmental support. And in saying that I'm not saying that they could have chosen to agree with me. Actually, they could have been in complete disagreement with me, made choices that were more collaborative in their approach, and I think they would have served themselves much better. As it is, nobody is seeing their intractability and closed-mindedness as evidence of their commitment to their convictions: no, the vast majority are seeing it as just intractability and closed-mindedness. And that's hurting their ability to advocate for those convictions that they do hold.

You know, when I put myself in the shoes of those people who have, in my estimation, proceeded in ways that are really diabolical, I do think that they are operating from a real set of values. I don't think that they are without convictions, and I don't think that their values are necessarily "wrong." In fact, I share some of them. We just have different ways of getting from A to B. I think that there was a moment weeks back when, had people made some different choices, all of the conflict and negativity that resulted could have been avoided. As it is, with the choices that were made, some people who started out pretty unhappy are only more unhappy, and they look a bit foolish to boot. If I didn't want to strangle those people, I'd feel sorry for them.

But so anyway, things are actually, when I sit back and reflect, pretty positive in my world. Sure, there is more stress to come, but I think at the end of the day, things are going to work out just fine.

In Spite of the Rage, I Really Do Love My Job

How do I know this? I cheered myself up today - and forgot the rage for a bit - by working on syllabi for summer and fall. And I found myself excited and happy. As much as I'm pretty much over this whole service thing at the moment, I'm really not over teaching, and it doesn't really ever get old to me. Specific classes? Sure, they get old. But new classes? Revamped classes that I really love? Never.

It Must Be Nice to Have a Penis

Apparently, when you have one, you feel entitled to put forth entire proposals about which you have consulted no one and which nearly everybody thinks are stupid. And you feel wronged when people think that they are stupid because your penis is supposed to mean that everybody thinks you're right and that nasty lady with the vagina is wrong.

Also when you have a penis, you feel that it is completely within your rights to disparage a process (and by extension the person running it) that has been totally transparent on a listserv, when you've not attended a single faculty meeting or, apparently, read any of the many documents that have been circulated widely to faculty. Indeed, your opinion (attached to the penis that you swing around in everybody's face) counts, regardless of how (un)informed you are.

Having a penis means that you can write an email to shut down certain sorts of discussions without being called a bitch or being treated like you are overreacting or crazy.

And apparently, being equipped with a penis means that you can advocate for your own position without being criticized for doing so, being accused of being unprofessional, being treated like a dumb little girl who just doesn't understand her own freaking discipline.

What kills me (aside from the fact that I'm surrounded by a bunch of dicks) is that I'm more professionally respected and accomplished than 90% of the men who are shooting their mouths off in ways that are public and that cast me in a negative light. And yet, I need to get "good" dicks to advocate for me because no matter what I do, the one qualification I'm lacking is a big old penis of my own.

I Would Like to Punch Some People in the Face

But because I'm a civilized person, I do not give in to such impulses.

Almost at the Halfway Point! Huzzah!

Spring Break is next week people! Next week! The sun is shining, my teaching load this week is considerably lightened because I've got library instruction scheduled in two classes and a midterm in another. Sure, it's only 14 degrees, but spring! Spring is coming! And after spring comes summer!

Now, it's true: I'm still feeling like I'm drowning a bit with all of the department service stuff and with the research stuff that I'm basically ignoring. And in addition to the teaching that I'm scheduled for, I'm sponsoring like 4 students in research projects and advising one senior thesis. So the next 9 weeks will not be "easy" but time marches forward! This, too, shall pass!

In other news, I'm irritated with my hair. I think that the shift in hairstyle that happened a couple of months ago was a bit of a miscalculation, and I'm wondering what to do next. I could, without a huge amount of effort, return to the style that I most recently left. Or I could go shorter, which I've been wanting to do for a while, but I'd like to be thinner before I do that. Or I could just suck it up with this haircut, because the reality is that part of my irritation with it is that I'm growing out bangs, and so if I can just make it through the next while, all of my work to this point with the growing out of the bangs won't be for nothing. But then I think, do I really look good without bangs? I feel like I might look better with bangs....

Aside from concerns about my hair, I think things are actually going really well right now. I've been feeling really proud of the work that I've been doing in the classroom (especially with an awesome group activity that I came up with last week and that really did everything a good activity is supposed to do), and I think that something has shifted in my approach in the classroom wherein I'm more relaxed and "fun" as a teacher. I've been feeling this shift for a while, but I really think that I'm mellowing into a different identity as a teacher lately... one in which I'm still tough but in which I'm becoming much more transparent about why I'm tough, and where I'm much more open with my students about who I am and where I'm coming from. I think that this mellowing has a lot to do with confidence and with the fact that I'm feeling more authority - rather than less - in my role as teacher. I'm less afraid to take risks and to put myself out there in the classroom. Perhaps tenure plays a role in this? Or maybe that I'm just getting older and so authority issues are less in play?

I'm still feeling... a bit at sea with the committee work nonsense, but I think that things are moving forward positively. I think that part of my problem in seeing that over the past week or so has had a lot to do with my innate impatience. Sometimes I can make the mistake of thinking that because things aren't happening as quickly as I'd like that they're not happening at all. In this case, at least, I don't think that this is true. I think, probably, that any discomfort I've been feeling has to do that I'm learning a lot through this process, and I'm being forced to exercise skills that haven't been central to the work that I do in the rest of my job. (Not that I don't have to be patient as a teacher, but in teaching I'm in charge, whereas in this area, I'm not, not really, which changes the dynamic and changes how I go about different tasks.)

So anyway. I think that's all I've got on this Tuesday morning. Coming soon (because I'm trying not to be a vortex of negativity on this blog) I suspect there will be an update on the Man-Kitty and his partner in crime, Mr. Stripey. Sure, cat blogging might not be "professional" or whatever, but don't we all need a break from the drama every once in a while? I think that we do.

In Which I Accept Certain Limitations and Attempt to Start out the Week with a Positive Attitude

Well, the weekend was a good one. Lots of rest and relaxation time, lots of reading. That said, I think I've accepted the fact that the revise and resubmit I've got to do can't get done until spring break. My head is too cluttered with the service stuff and with teaching stuff to dig into it over a weekend, and that's ok. Or, maybe it isn't, but it is how it is.

So today I'll finish some cleaning stuff, get myself organized for the week ahead, and go to the gym. And if I get all of that done, I think I'm in good shape.

In other news, I've got no other news, really. FB's been sick - like antibiotics-requiring sick - for the past few days (For apparently my germs transmitted to him over the phone? One would think, given the Laws of Science that this is impossible, but it does seem to be the case) but we had a really great conversation last night that made me laugh more than I have in recent weeks, and that was much needed. You know what's great about FB? The fact that he gets all of the stress and stupidity I've been dealing with lately but also that he only cares about it because he's supportive of me and he doesn't have a personal investment in any of the stressful and stupid things. I've been thinking a good deal about this in relation to the benefits of the whole LDR thing, as well as in relation to the negative aspects of, say, working at the same institution (and even in the same department) as one's significant other. People often assume that the best outcome of an LDR would be to end up relocated to the same place. Lots of times, I think there can be negatives to that which we don't acknowledge. Short version of this: it can be a lot easier to be unconditionally supportive of another person and to be the Voice of Reason when they're stressed out or upset when we ourselves aren't stressed out and upset by the same things. No, this isn't rocket science. But I've been feeling very grateful lately that I've got that unconditional support without the static of the other person having his own interests in play. Also, did I mention that FB and I came to a compromise about visiting? We were a longer way in getting there than probably was necessary, but I'm actually pleased with what we arrived at. So that is a nice thing. (I figured a little FB update would be a nice change from my ranting and raving of last week. Wouldn't we all rather talk about boys than departmental politics? I know that I would.)

So anyway, I need to get going with my mammoth list of things to do. Perhaps more later.