Working in academe was the furthest thing from my mind back in 1973. As a naïve, twenty-something dreamer, with a newly minted B.A. in communications from a third-tier state university in the Northeast, I couldn't get away from college fast enough. Hollywood, not grad school, beckoned. Mistake No. 1.
Doing what you love doesn't always mean the money will follow. Through sheer perseverance, I built a solid career as a hack writer with a box full of advertising samples and editorial clips to show for more than 20 years' labor. Sometimes, when I actually cared about what I was writing, I wrote very well, even to the point of winning a few awards. But screenwriting glory eluded me.
So how did a failed screenwriter end up in academe? Largely by accident. Despite my hasty departure from college, I had always been warm to the idea of academe and to academics. I shared their love of reading, writing, and eating in obscure ethnic restaurants. Compared to the predators of Hollywood, academics were positively charming.
As a born listener, I was the ideal companion for a verbose academic. My ex-husband (mistake No. 2) had been a college professor, and, during lapses of sobriety, was capable of generating witty and insightful conversation. During my years in Los Angeles, I'd occasionally apply for jobs in the publications offices at local universities, only to be turned away at the door, having been sullied by the private, profit-making sector.
In 1993, tired of the expensive and claustrophobic L.A. treadmill, I threw a dart at the map and relocated to a large metro area in the Southeast -- sight unseen. Mistake No. 3. As a bicoastal urban expatriate, adjusting to live in the Deep South has been uneasy at best.
Within weeks of my arrival, I responded to a classified ad in the newspaper and wound up in the public-affairs office of a large state university as the editor of its alumni magazine. It took more than 20 years and a couple of cross-country moves, but I had finally found my niche. My comfort zone. Academia.
As a late bloomer in a new field, I had a lot of catching up to do, particularly if I wanted to achieve what has evolved as my ultimate goal -- associate vice president for public affairs. With colleges and universities hustling for students and dollars in the brave new world of enrollment management and strategic marketing, I was betting that my former liability -- a strong sense of private-sector accountability -- would now become my primary asset. Mistake No. 4. I would soon learn that in a world devoid of profit, accountability is mere lip service at best and can be perceived as threatening.
I spent the next six years at Southeast U. In addition to writing and editing the alumni quarterly, I became the institution's chief copywriter -- churning out ads, brochures, recruitment publications, annual reports, capital-campaign materials, and winning CASE awards. My hack writing skills were well appreciated. I gradually became the voice of the institution.
During my time there, I took advantage of one of the best career perks that academe offers -- free education. While your value in the "real world" may be based solely on your connections, ability, and experience, the gold standard in academe is an advanced degree. The higher, the better. (I still haven't quite figured out why a Ph.D. in psychology, chemistry, or religion, for example, qualifies anyone to preside over a multimillion-dollar institution, but I've learned to keep my mouth shut about such speculations). My master's degree in applied linguistics not only allows me to pick up extra money as an adjunct instructor, it also gives me an edge in climbing the administrative ladder.
I probably could have stayed at Southeast U. for the rest of my working days, if it weren't for the politics. My workplace was covered with land mines of chaotic organization, titular management, illogical rewards, and endless committee meetings in search of the perfect three-word tagline that would solve all of our enrollment woes.
As a rebel and a risk-taker, I committed professional suicide daily as I transformed the institution's horrid glorified newsletter into an award-winning alumni magazine. My greatest triumphs were subject to hostile takeovers by malevolent suits taking credit for my work. During my final year at this university, I volunteered to become enrollment-marketing "coordinator." Mistake No. 5. I endured $500,000 worth of enlightenment, courtesy of a nationally recognized enrollment-marketing consultant, who confirmed everything I had already learned about communications and marketing during the past 20 years. I was unable to shake my private-sector work ethic, and enrollment soared. Joyous administrators rewarded themselves with fat raises. It was time to move on.
I've spent the last two years as the marketing and public-relations director for a community college in the Southeast, where I've honed my media-relations and money-management skills. Enrollment is on the rise. Grudgingly, I'm even attempting to figure out the politics by carefully observing my smart and politically astute boss.
So where do I go from here? I have eight years of management experience in public affairs, media relations, and marketing under my belt. I must be pretty good at what I do, or extraordinarily lucky. For the past few years, I've been lurking through The Chronicle's online classified ads. I've salivated over some of the salaries, positions, and geographic locations. Before accepting my current position, I had applied for a number of these jobs, had several interviews, and even turned down a few offers. As I approach three years on this job, I've decided to renew my search.
My heart cries out for the West Coast and big cities, but my aging body needs to weigh eight years of vesting in the state pension system where I've been a participant in my current and former jobs. Because I work in the rural Southeast, I am woefully underpaid by industry standards.
I'm also pretty flexible about the type of institution I would work for. Because I got into academe so late in life, I'm not caught up in the location, location, location snobbery. While community colleges may be the sub-basement, prestige-wise, I prefer their egalitarian spirit. As an aging liberal, I get lots of fulfillment hawking higher education to the traditionally underserved.
Bottom line? It looks like I'm still a sucker for doing a good job. Mistake No. 6. I guess it's hard to teach an old hack new tricks. Hopefully, there are a few good institutions out there looking for a results-oriented pro willing to overlook my ineptitude at playing office politics.
