It seems like ages since I wrote my first column about my search for a tenure-track job in history, but rest assured I have good reason.
Before the leaves had begun to change, my adviser had enthusiastically approved my dissertation. I confidently sent it out to my other committee members, all of whom, I assumed, would share my adviser's enthusiasm or at least defer to his superior wisdom. I looked forward to some free time to stoke my engines and get ready for the job announcements that typically begin in September.
However, my journey toward a tenure-track position derailed moments after leaving the station. In mid-September, a previously silent committee member insisted that I drastically reconceptualize my dissertation, rewrite each chapter, and submit them one at a time for his approval. He peppered his letter to me with comments like "unprofessional," "biased," and "simplistic." Worst of all, he doubted that the dissertation as a whole would be ready for his approval anytime soon.
I reacted with shock, dismay, and anger. Who did he think he was, making these outrageous accusations and demands? Did he not realize that he was from a field vastly different from my own beloved field of economic history, and did he not know that both my adviser, a renowned authority on the field, and I knew more about the topic that he did?
Why was he holding up my dissertation? Without a completed dissertation, and with the opposition of this respected faculty member, there would be no point to beginning a job search this year. I had gone on job searches in previous years sans dissertation, and the time and money had resulted in little more than frustration and disappointment. I would have to wait until next year.
I was pretty steamed, but soon I realized that this steam could be converted into motive power that could propel me through a complete revision. I would show that professor that he was wrong about my potential. (Clearly I've been spending too much time playing with my son and his Thomas the Tank Engine toys.)
Motivated like never before, I threw myself into my work. Writing had always been a slow process for me, but now the words seemed to flow from my fingers to the keyboard. I was a man possessed.
As I wrote, I gradually realized that this critical professor had made many insightful observations and had provided some good ideas that were really developing into something. My revisions were significantly improving the quality of the dissertation, and my rage was producing them at a furious pace neither of us had thought possible. He approved the dissertation in November and was helpful and supportive at the defense. Graduation would have to be moved from January to June, but the important thing was that I had completed all the requirements for the Ph.D. and had my dissertation in hand. I was now back on the job track with a better and more marketable dissertation.
The revision process resolved a nagging problem. I had decided some time ago against moving my family and myself away from our home region in order to take an academic position. I would limit myself to local institutions only. The large research universities that my adviser and my graduate training had prepared me for were not an option, except for the small handful in my area. I knew that this news would disappoint my adviser and possibly cause him to lose interest in me and my work. I would, of course, tell him the truth if he asked, but he never did. He simply assumed my main goal was academic glory rather than a happy home life.
But because of the success of my dissertation revision, and thanks to the exhilarating output of writing it had produced, I was now more excited about research and my prospects for success in academe than I had been since my first days of graduate school. The future again seemed limitless. I was now certain that I could produce enough good work to earn tenure at a top department. Moreover, the prospect of working with distinguished colleagues, brilliant students, and excellent research facilities began to increase in value compared with the value of continuing to live in the place I loved. I wanted to recapture the exhilarating pace of research that I had experienced during the dissertation revision.
Thus, my dilemma was solved. I would still look for a tenure-track position at local colleges and universities, and I would still reject mediocre institutions in other parts of the country. However, I would now enthusiastically apply for openings in the best history departments, regardless of location. This pleased me, my adviser, and even my wife, who would have to leave good friends, family, and neighbors should one of these top departments make me an offer.
And a good thing, too. So far this hiring season, only one local college has an opening for an assistant professor in my field, and from the ad they seem to be searching for someone with interests and strengths rather different from my own. On the other hand, two top-flight departments in different parts of the country have openings that suit me very well. At this late date, it appears that both have me on their lists of possible on-campus interview prospects. (Elite departments usually do not wish to sully themselves by interviewing at the annual convention of historians in early January.)
I also have a few interviews at the convention. I probably wouldn't accept offers from any of them, but I have learned that at this time in a scholar's life, perceptions and plans can be unstable. My ideas about where I am willing to work have changed once over the past few months, and they may change again. In addition, I need experience at interviewing.
So off I go to the "meat market." I can't wait to tell you the gory details.
