I once heard a very senior faculty member make this observation: "There is prejudice aplenty about candidates' doctoral alma maters. An odd one is that you can move south and you can move west, but you will have a very difficult time moving north or east from your alma mater." He told me that he had developed this theory after serving on many search committees and watching dozens of tenure and promotion applications work their way through review committees.

At the time, I thought the advice was fairly quirky, wondering, of course, what graduates from the University of Miami or Stanford University would do for jobs (in both cases they do just fine!), but over the years, I've seen this play out on at least an anecdotal scale. At the same time, I've noted another related geographical factor: Candidates who possess degrees from institutions in various geographical regions likewise seem to...

One "perk" offered to some faculty members is the opportunity to lead foreign-study tours. Few things enrich one's life as much as does travel, and for scholars, the opportunity to visit new places and interact with colleagues in other regions is a wonderful part of the profession.

Most institutions I know of have a few primary travel gurus, who lead annual trips and have a significant student following for such programs. Indeed, I have known of such faculty members who have continued these trips well into retirement.

Two challenges face faculty members who are involved in study abroad. First, student travel is a complicated matter legally, financially, and supervision-wise, which means that, to be done well, it is more work than most people realize. Second, faculty-led tours can generate hard feelings or jealousies when they turn into fiefdoms. 

How does your institution handle study...

The summer after my junior year of high school, my family made a pilgrimage to the three universities on my dream list. Each institution arranged for us to meet with a faculty member in my likely major. The professor at the first visit was arrogant and condescending; I didn't like him at all. The second visit was better, not exactly a warm and fuzzy meeting, but there was some rapport there. The third visit was fantastic. The professor was friendly, affirming of my interests, and made me feel like he wanted me in that program. I suppose you can figure out which institution I chose to attend. My experience in the classroom with that professor was excellent as well; he challenged me at every turn, pushing me to achieve more than I had ever dreamed possible.

I think back on those visits each time I meet with families of prospective students at my institution. We try to arrange a personal...

A recent article about a Harvard study on Generation X faculty members has created some buzz on the Internet this week. The study includes this observation from a participant: "[Gen X] is much less formal. When people in their fifties started out, there was much more distance between faculty and students. If you were meeting with a student, it was for strictly academics and business purposes. ... [In contrast, my colleague] down the hall (born in 1966) has always got students in his office. He plays tennis with them. It’s just a completely different relationship ..." (page 4).

That observation reminded me of a confession I once heard from a colleague some years ago.

As "Dr. Friendly" picked up her son from day care, she recognized one of her new students, "Sue," whose son happened to be in the same class. Sue was a slightly older student, not really much younger than Dr. Friendly, and ...

We are entering into contract season, which means that many faculty members are learning the results of their tenure applications. The timing of the news varies widely, but at many institutions this news coincides with the offer of a contract for the following year: either a shiny new "tenured faculty" notice or a "terminal status" letter. The same is true for those at midtenure review; they learn about green-light or flashing-yellow-light status.

For those who receive bad news, the job market is looming anew. This is stressful and daunting, to say the least. The reasons behind a denial of tenure or a poor midterm assessment may be manifold, but certainly many quality faculty members find themselves facing such a status. Between departmental politics, personal complications, and other factors, the promise of scholarship or prowess in the classroom can be undercut by other circumstances. ...

My recent post on changes in the laws regarding textbook orders caused me to think about the love-hate relationship that most faculty members have with textbook companies. I suppose that most of us harbor a secret desire to write the definitive textbook for our field, something like Irving M. Copi's Introduction to Logic (originally published in 1953, now in its 13th edition) or Friedrich Klaeber's Beowulf (first published in 1922, now in its fourth, heavily supplemented edition), but those lightning strikes are exceedingly rare, and for most of us, we are limited to assigning textbooks in accordance with posted policies.

The reality is that textbooks are one of those shadow realms in academe: We have textbook buyers who visit campus with great wads of cash in their pockets; we have new editions of some texts that come out every 18 months; we have high prices that are "justified" by the...

One of the more "minor" lines in the Higher Education Opportunity Act of 2008 was the requirement that institutions collect textbook information earlier and post it publicly, including ISBN's. The American Council on Education published a guide to help institutions adjust to the new mandate. For good or for ill, the former monopoly that had been held by college bookstores has been substantially reduced by this act.

We have now had a full year of seeing how the guidelines have affected book orders on a widespread basis, and some faculty members complain the deadlines are simply too early. New books will be released in the next few months, new editions will be released, and other logistical issues can complicate meeting the deadlines. Moreover, some fall semester courses will not be added to the schedule until after the first published deadlines. On the other hand, department chairs report ...

Perhaps you have heard the apocryphal story about the aged professor who accidently drops his well-yellowed lecture notes and watches them disintegrate into dust. In the version I heard as a graduate student, he slumped to the floor and wept like Alexander the Great over his final conquest, finally being led from the room and into retirement.

When I heard that tale, I thought about one of my own history professors, "Dr. Charming," who used the same lecture notes for our class that he had used for students of my father's generation. After class one afternoon, I stopped to ask a question and saw that the pages of the loose-leaf notebook he used were yellowed, crinkled and spotted with age and coffee stains. Since the course was on ancient history and he was fairly curmudgeonly, I'm sure that he would joke that not much had happened to update the subject lately. As a point of fact, though,...

One of the faculty duties I found perplexing when I started my career was that of student advising. My personal experience as an undergraduate student was less than pleasant, so I wanted to do a good job, but I wasn’t sure where to turn. My department provided me with some general forms to help guide me, and I reviewed the catalog fairly closely, but figuring out things like course rotations in other departments made me paranoid that I would fail to provide accurate advice.

I think that most students seem to want advisers who will merely "punch" their registration cards, providing them with the necessary passwords or whatever might be required for self-registration. A few seek advisers who will double as mentors, but most students seem to want the path of least resistance (and accountability). I have to say, though, that in my role as dean this creates one of the most significant...

One of the tasks administrators, including department chairs, often undertake is donor relations. I don't mean donors who bring checks but rather donors who bring "things." I have heard story after story about the strange and diverse things that had come into departmental offices: collections of National Geographic, blurry snapshots of grandma's vacation in England's Lake District, Uncle Jack's butterfly collection, Aunt Junie's hand-painted china, or even a group of random books purchased online.

A few donations are helpful or even valuable; when such lightning strikes, it is exciting and noteworthy. Most, however, are just really not that useful. Online archives have replaced many of the magazine and photo needs, most amateur specimen collections are of limited pedagogical use, and other donations are sort of a different form of the Christmas fruitcake swap. In the worst-case scenario...