I heard one of the twins crying around 6:30 a.m. My wife is an early riser -- and this was my big day, after all -- so she rolled out of bed, rounded up the children, and led them downstairs. I stayed in bed for another two hours, drifting in and out of sleep, startling awake occasionally to the noise of a banging pot, and then fading back out.
When I came downstairs to make my tea and find something to eat -- hoping that maybe Anne had felt inspired to make a big weekend breakfast, and I'd find some eggs and sausage congealing on a plate in the microwave -- it was almost 9 a.m.
There were no eggs and sausage. I peeled a banana.
***
At around that very moment, the tenured faculty members of my college were filing into the auditorium of our new science building -- a state-of-the-art classroom, wired and media-savvy in every way you can imagine, and with more whiteboard space than you could fit on the side of a barn. They sidled their way into the tiered rows of seats climbing away from the podium, and settled in for a long day.
They were sacrificing their Saturday to take part in an annual ritual that has long helped to determine the fate of tenure candidates at my college: the full faculty's vote on the tenure decision of each candidate. Given the size of our college, it seems an anachronistic practice -- one held over from the days when the college was small enough for everyone to know everyone else, and their accomplishments.
But with our student population now beyond the 2,000 mark, and the number of tenured and tenure-track faculty members at well over a hundred, such familiarity with all of one's colleagues has become difficult to achieve. I've heard rumors that the college may eliminate the faculty vote from tenure considerations, but I don't know if they're true.
***
Every week I spend a day and a half at home with the three youngest of our five children, so I almost always have between five to 10 hours of grading and other work to catch up on on the weekends. Around 9:45 a.m. that Saturday, Anne took the younger kids out to the store to buy shoes, and to keep them out of the house for a while so I could grade.
"Make sure you do some work," she said, glowering at me as she backed out the front door, a baby in each arm, knowing how easily I get distracted by my writing, by the piano, by the Internet, or by just about anything that I like more than grading papers -- which is, of course, just about everything.
So I did. I settled in and cranked through eight papers and two sets of quizzes, folded two loads of laundry, and spent only about 20 minutes at the piano during the three hours she was gone.
***
Although it would be rare for every tenured faculty member to know the details of every candidate's case, the college has developed a system to allow professors to vote intelligently nonetheless.
Early in the fall semester, the candidate's department first discusses his case and collectively makes a recommendation to the college evaluation committee. That committee -- composed of a set number of tenured and untenured faculty members from various disciplines -- reviews the candidate's case and makes a recommendation in a report to the administration.
Each tenure candidate has a "shepherd," who coordinates the evaluation of his or her case, and at the full faculty meeting, the candidate's shepherd reads the committee's report aloud. Then time is allotted for any member of the faculty to offer an opinion on that candidate. Colleagues can second the sentiments of the report or disagree with it, and offer their own insights into the candidate and his or her credentials.
In theory, colleagues can offer any kind of comment they like; someone could mention that I once took the last chocolate pudding in the dining hall, just as he was reaching for it. But from what I've heard, the discussion usually remains at a professional level.
When that discussion has ended, the faculty vote, by secret ballot, on whether the candidate should receive tenure.
***
The babies were asleep in their car seats when Anne pulled in around 1:00 p.m., so we spirited them up to their cribs. We have an unwritten rule in our house that if you get up with the babies, you get to nap when they do, so Anne joined them upstairs and left me with the older kids.
By that time, the undercurrent of anxiety about my case was swelling into my conscious mind. I had been assured by many tenured friends that my case was strong, but you never know. When I want that pudding, I grab it; how many hungry and tenured faculty members might I have offended inadvertently? Or how many of my remarks in committee meetings might have been just the comment that you're never supposed to make in front of that influential senior professor?
So, desperate for distraction, I grabbed the new softballs and bat that my wife had bought at the sporting-goods store, put coat, hat, and gloves onto the older girls, and went out to have some batting practice in the 17-degree New England weather. We lasted around 17 minutes, but we had fun.
***
Eight candidates were up for tenure this year, including two of us in the English department. Mike, my departmental colleague, guessed that the candidates would be presented in alphabetical order. Working on that assumption, he calculated that, with our last names, we would come up after lunch.
The lucky tenured get a box lunch for their Saturday of work. Mike had joked with a senior faculty member earlier in the week that he hoped it was a good box lunch, so professors would be in a good mood when they voted on our cases. On the contrary, our colleague said, a bad boxed lunch will mean we want to get out of there quicker and get home to a real meal, so that might encourage less debate -- which could work in our favor.
***
Back inside, we went to the basement, built block towers, and hung out. I'm not sure I did much playing at all. Those last couple of hours are a bit of a blur. I couldn't seem to concentrate. I confirmed our dinner reservations -- we knew we'd have something to celebrate, or something to mourn. Either way, we thought we'd prefer to do it at a nice restaurant. I did some more laundry and took a shower.
***
The faculty's vote -- like the recommendation of the department, and the report of the evaluation committee -- resembles the kind of vote that the Student Government Association makes to forbid classes starting before noon: taken under advisement, but nonbinding. The real decision rests with the administration, which can choose to accept or reject the faculty's recommendation. The very final decision, though -- as with all important matters at most colleges or universities -- rests with the college's Board of Trustees, which takes its own vote on the tenure candidates at a meeting a few weeks after the faculty vote.
In the vast majority of cases, the faculty vote aligns with the decision of the administration. But not always. And, in the end, it's the administration's vote that counts. Still, everyone takes the faculty vote seriously -- no one more so than the candidate, who learns from that vote what his colleagues really think of his work.
***
At around 4:05 p.m., the phone rang.
***
The vote of the tenured faculty is confidential. Tenure candidates officially don't learn of their fate until the administration has made its decision, and the trustees have approved.
But the tenured faculty at my college have all sat through this trial themselves. And, of course, all of the candidates have friends and interested parties among the tenured who know that we are waiting on tenterhooks.
To avoid breaching the confidentiality of the meeting, someone will usually call the candidate and simply tell him some numbers. No context or explanation of the numbers is given. They simply call, say three numbers, and hang up. The decision to construe those sets of numbers as the yes, no, and abstain votes of the faculty rests entirely with the candidate.
***
I heard my numbers, and hung up the phone. It was 4:06 p.m. on Saturday, February 18, 2006, and -- barring a decision by the administration or the trustees to ignore the faculty's recommendation -- six years of my life on the tenure track had begun rolling toward a happy close.
