What is interesting, though, is that we don’t root our problems in some of the real culprits: legislators who don’t believe in higher education and want to consistently cut funding to state institutions;  anti-higher ed folks in the larger community who mock academics and suggest that degrees are a waste of time; a culture that focuses more on testing than on knowledge and critical thinking… No, we tend to feel embattled by one another.

And while there are situations that rise to the level of something serious–assault, threat, harassment, etc., most people’s complaints don’t involve that kind of issue. Faculty complain of being victimized by one another… “He disrespected me.” “I helped mentor her through tenure, and now she won’t include me on her projects.” “She made fun of my research.” Faculty speak of being victimized by nefarious administrators trying to run everything, and administrators dismiss attacking faculty while comparing them to children and cats. And everyone complains about student attacks, students who are also disrespectful, ill-prepared, frustrating, disengaged, too focused on partying, and so on.

While I get complaining–how could we get through the day if we didn’t bitch about something that is annoying us–I really don’t get the resulting feeling of being embattled that has been adopted by so many. Those of us with full-time academic positions are living a pretty fantastic life, for the most part. Is it what it used to be? No. Nothing is. But few of us actually have people determined to make our lives miserable. And those of us who do may find that we are engaged in mutual attacks or we may be bringing it on ourselves.

I thought about this when I read two recent entries in Inside Higher Ed today: the “back-and-forth” on Dean Dad’s blog between a faculty member complaining about a heavy-handed dean, and the dean in question; and a story about University of Oklahoma President David Boren (left), accused of trying to control the future of the university. The faculty member writing into Matt Reed’s blog provided a vision of a careerist Dean with a grandiose sense of self who wanted to establish a new major based on his own desire to secure a legacy. (Not too different from the read of the university president who is accused of doing the same in making senior administrative appointments.) Both the faculty member in the blog and the UO faculty made the actions of administrators sound nefarious. It got even more complicated in the first story when the Dean in question responded in the comments, telling the tale of junior faculty who  secretly supported the new major, but…wait for it…they were too afraid of the senior faculty to speak up. So many people being done wrong, just in one day on the internet!

I had a faculty member in one of my grad school programs who routinely received poor student evaluations. Year after year, he received the same kinds of comments about his teaching style and the limitations of the course. He dismissed the evaluations every year, blaming the students for not understanding the purpose of the course and not appreciating his teaching methods. As he explained this to me during a conversation about teaching, I was dumbfounded. I naively thought, “If everyone dislikes what you do, perhaps you should reconsider it?” But I soon realized that he saw any negative feedback as an unwarranted critique that somehow called his legitimacy into question.

Another faculty member I knew had a personal style that one could politely call abrasive. She tended to harass people if they would not succumb to her perspective, and often, people did succumb (or they pretended to), just to get her to back off. She won her way a lot using this technique. And, if a group of faculty tried to organize to block her bullying, why, they were soon accused of “mobbing” and put in their place! (This isn’t to say that workplace mobbing doesn’t exist, but it is a slippery concept that occasionally gets used when faculty organize to block a bully.)

Can everyone in academe be a victim? What happens with all of the faculty and the administrators see themselves as martyrs, victims under constant attack from others? How can we ever work through differences?

Dolly in Straight Talk, telling it like it is

I turn to a quote from one of my favorite musicians/actors, Ms. Dolly Parton,”Get down off that cross, honey. Somebody needs the wood.” And I say this as a formerly embattled academic myself.

Really, I was an out lesbian feminist in graduate school, someone who didn’t fit in and faced my fair share of detractors, sexual harassers, and lack of support from superiors. I went to national conferences and saw the topic of my research and even my research methods belittled by those in power. But you know what? That stuff is in the past. I have a tenured job, my own office, and some great colleagues and friends in my university and across the country. I run a department with a 7-figure budget, and I can see progress happening all the time. I run into our graduates in the community, and I am proud of their accomplishments. I have publications in journals–big ones, not just ones in my small area of interest–and even my own entry labeled with the dewey decimal system.

In short, I am not that embattled graduate student or junior professor anymore. And I need to leave that feeling of victimization behind, recognize my strengths and my weaknesses, and accept that my growth and learning are ongoing. And when people give me negative feedback, challenge my assertions or my understanding, or even call me out more vehemently, I need to take a minute, calm my reactionary “they are attacking me!” impulse, and give their perspective a fair hearing. I learned as a teenager that if you hear the same issue from more than three people, or you have the same complaint about more than three people, the problem may be legitimate and it may be you!

So, to those of you who are having to cope with end-of-year evaluations from students or supervisors, try to come to it with a good sense of self and perhaps some humility. Think about the department’s needs, your colleague’s needs, your students’ needs, and hell, perhaps even the chair or dean’s needs. Maybe this one time, it IS you that needs to change. The grievance process–and the opportunity to gripe–will always be there.

I have learned so many things that you hear about in leadership trainings, but that mean little until the rubber meets the road… or you spend more time with the university counsel. Here is just a list of things I have learned over the last two years in my administrative role:

1. Having to work in an office during work hours is a blessing and a curse. It is a blessing because you can get what you need, when you need it, thanks to staff, cabinets of supplies, student workers, colleagues, and other folks. You can also have opportunities to catch up with people and shoot the shit, or you can hide out and work. At home, I could do what I wanted, but I was occasionally lonely. Unfortunately, it is a curse because sometimes I don’t want to come in, dress “professionally,” and deal with interruptions, requests, concerns, issues, problems, and just day-to-day dramas of working with people in a people-related business. I occasionally miss my private time and space to read, think, and write. And I miss working at home in comfortable clothes. I have had to learn to do things like grade, write papers, and analyze data in my office.
2. You have to approach people in different ways, tailored to who they are and how they perceive the world, and you need to simultaneously be yourself. While this seems like a paradox, it is honestly not any different from what we do everyday. My in-laws are pretty old-fashioned in many ways, so I try to curb my cursing when I am spending time with them. I am not a different person with them, but I emphasize one part of my personality (the friendly, warm, loving daughter-in-law) over the others (the Jersey girl) in my interactions with the ‘rents. I have to do the same with the many folks I encounter all day: newbie faculty, established faculty, my staff, the Dean’s staff, undergraduate and graduate students, student services folks, etc. Just like my boss has to pull on his tie for meetings with the Provost, I can tone it up or down, depending on who sits in the other chair. I try to think of it as being my best self for whomever I am with, while not straying from my core values and beliefs.  And if I occasionally curse in a meeting, everybody can get over it.
3. Never underestimate how much time you will spend dealing with other people’s bad decisions. Whether it is the cheating student, the faculty member who cannot stick to their syllabus, the administrator who promises staff members one thing and then doesn’t follow through, or your own disorganization, bad decisions eat up administrators time like a flesh-eating bacteria. And there really is no need to get angry or worked up about it… It comes with the territory and nothing you do, no system you put in place, no set of rules or policies and procedures will keep these messed up things from winding up on your desk.
4. There is probably someone else who ought to at least be aware of this information. This would otherwise be known as the “Communication is key” rule. Every administrator needs to spend an inordinate amount of time on two things: identifying who has information you need, and identifying people with whom you should share information. The information sharing needs to be timely, consistent, and widespread. Even confidential personnel matters usually involve 5-6 people and multiple offices (e.g., HR, legal counsel, the administrator(s) above you, unions, etc.). It isn’t even about “No man (sic) is an island.” It is like learning how to play telephone well.
5. Administration is learning to manage your own worst traits. This week, I learned that I am controlling. “Come on, Lesboprof!” you may think, “You don’t seem so bad.” Well, folks, I am here to say that I am controlling about very specific things: anything with my name on it and anything that represents me (or the department) in public. I don’t care what you do, how you dress, or how you address me. I do care about the following:

• the website for the program is not full of errors
• the event flier for the department uses a limited number of fonts and looks attractive
• the joint conference proposal we submit reads like we are smart and thoughtful
• the faculty and staff treat students with dignity and respect
• the faculty and staff plays well with others on campus

All I can do here is manage. I can’t overcome my controlling nature. Honestly, it is part of what makes me a good scholar and administrator. But I have to keep a grip on it, because it can drive folks crazy and lead to bad outcomes if it gets out of control.

All told, I am still loving the administrative role. I get overwhelmed, sometimes, and I can be hard on myself because I hate the learning process as much as I love it. When I think ahead to goals for next year, I am hoping to learn to achieve a better work-life balance, focused on better eating, exercise, and time with my partner. I have to start moving into a creative role, rather than staying in fix-it mode. I need to relax a little of my control to allow those I lead to shine and blossom in their own rights. And, finally, I hope to resurrect Lesboprof in all its bloggy glory, and see what fun we could have this summer and into the future.

Happy End-of semester!

One of the best parts of the awards for me, and another big draw for watching, was that Jodie Foster would be getting the Cecil B. DeMille Lifetime Achievement Award. I have always been a Jodie Foster fan, and I was pleased to see a woman actress/director/producer get this kind of recognition.

I watched Foster’s acceptance speech with my partner of 21 years, who herself is Foster’s age and has been out over 30 years. Both of us were really touched and impressed by her speech. My read, and the read of many of my academic and nonacademic friends, is pretty different from many others, including Tenured Radical’s thoughtful critique.

In case you missed it, Foster…is seeking love and empathy. Why? Because, as it turns out, being a movie star is a tough slog, and has forced her to fight for a life that was “real and honest” (something we civilians have at our fingertips), one in which she has sought “privacy above all else.”

Aaaargh. How to think about this little exercise in narcissism, one that so trivializes the struggles of most GLBTQ people in comparison to Foster’s depiction of herself “a fragile girl”?

As I read TR’s critique, echoed by many others, one of the biggest problems is that Foster’s complaints about privacy and having a real life strike her as something of a white whine… Real queers are suffering, dammit, and the poor little rich (famous) girl has no right to complain about a lack of privacy or to limit access to her truths. I honestly feel like that is creating a pretty high standard for anyone being able to speak about their experiences and their traumas. I am especially tender about that argument, as a white, upper-income academic administrator who has a blog that frequently hosts complaints about my life and my job. The critique also implies that coming out, privately or publicly, is more political than personal. I would argue that neither of these positions is true or fair.

Foster wasn’t speaking for all queers, just for herself, out of her own specificity. She was speaking to other Hollywood people and those who fetishize famous people. As a child actor and a young person in the entertainment industry, Foster likely missed out on some important developmental experiences that some of us “normal folks” take for granted, and she had experiences that none of us would want. I never had to think about whether my friends liked me because of my resources or name recognition. I never had people try to steal my clothing, my trash, or my used napkins just to own something I once used or to sell it on Ebay. I also cannot help remembering that Foster had a traumatic experience as a young college student, when she was the obsession of a mentally ill man who shot the sitting President of the United States just to get her attention. Many famous people, especially those in Hollywood, have stalkers, and the fear of what one deranged fan could do must be haunting. Having known my fair share of survivors of trauma, I am not at all surprised that Foster has taken steps to eliminate these kinds of potential threats in her life–even to an unhealthy extent. I actually thought I heard in her speech (and her decision to bring her family to the awards ceremony) a move to reclaim a more comfortable connection to a public self, for herself and her family.

So, I didn’t think of Foster’s speech as a coming out speech; I think it was a mid-life reflection and declaration for the future.  I thought that while her speech was carefully crafted and delivered, I think it had an underlying sincerity and purpose, and it reflected a moment of change, of decision, and of intentionality in her life. Think about how it ended: “This feels like the end of one era and the beginning of something else. Scary and exciting and now what? …Jodie Foster was here, I still am, and I want to be seen, to be understood deeply and to be not so very lonely.” Something new is coming for Foster, something that may honor her intention to engage the world. Do I know the whole of her plans? No. But I don’t really need to.

As for the public’s interpretation as a “coming out speech,” I think Foster teased the audience with the whole “coming out” theme, ultimately making people’s preoccupation with her sexuality into a joke by coming out as single. I thought that was both clever and funny, as it recognized that even though she did “come out” by claiming her then-partner in a speech in 2007, people are still somewhat obsessed with the idea that Foster hadn’t publicly claimed her gayness. (And some are still mad that she didn’t say lesbian last night, dammit!)

Honestly, even before this weekend, if you did a Google search for Jodie Foster, the search option that came up first was “Jodie Foster gay.” She knows that people–queers, straights, asexuals, and everyone else–are wanting to name her, claim her, and declaim her, and she has reason for, and interest in, challenging that. And those reasons are not only related to the homophobia of Hollywood… they are rooted in the homophobia we queers carry within each of us, the homophobia that makes it scary to tell your mom, the homophobia that makes us wonder if maybe we really are confused and could work it out another way, the homophobia that makes us wonder if God still loves us. Famous or not, rich or not, many queers have to wrestle with these questions and fears. And I thought Foster was acknowledging that experience, talking about herself as a young queer who tried to navigate her own coming out with friends and family. She chose to do it outside of the spotlight. She chose to keep it more private. She described the personal part of coming out, and I thought she did it with aplomb.

But here is the larger issue: Does Jodie Foster have a responsibility to be out? Just because she acts in, directs, and produces movies, is she required to give up her private life and talk to reporters about her family life, her relationship, her sexuality? I honestly don’t think she does. Would I like it if she was publicly out and proud, working on LGBTQ issues across the US and the globe? Sure. I celebrate every public coming out of a celebrity, politician, athlete, and public figure, as I think it moves our cause (that being civil rights) forward. But I also understand that coming out is a process, and people have to work their way through it. And I know that I cannot judge the way another person decides to manage their sexuality, unless they use it to oppress other people.

And I say this as a lesbian who has spent my career being the “designated queer” who studies gay stuff, speaks to classes/public assemblies/conferences/colleagues/reporters and almost anyone else who will listen about the challenges and wonderful parts of being a queer person in America, lobbies for LGBTQ-supportive organizational and public policies, teaches the queer studies courses, and often has been the only out queer person in my department, if not my college. I do all of that because I think it is important, and I have the capacity, commitment, and strength of self to do it. But I also understand that people approach their sexuality in different ways, and not everyone wants to or can do what I do. All I ask is that my more “private friends” get my back when I face losing credibility, being the butt of jokes, and even threats to my job as a result of my speaking out. And I think Jodie would live into that. To wit:

In the early 1990s, Foster helped her best friend Randy Stone and co-producer Peggy Rajski make the Oscar-winning 1994 short film Trevor (which was remade for HBO in 1998, ironically produced by the newly out Ellen DeGeneres). And in 2007, the same year that Randy Stone died of heart disease, Foster contributed another huge chunk of change to The Trevor Project, the largest in the organization’s history.

Jodie Foster may be difficult to understand. You may hate her relationship with homophobic, Anti-Semitic (and likely mentally ill alcoholic) Mel Gibson; you may wish she would claim the word lesbian in public; you may want her to be someone she isn’t. But you have to take Foster as she is, on her own terms. I am okay with that.

My experience with university legal counsel has been complicated, dating back to my time as a graduate student. In those days, I was upset about some programmatic decision the administrators in my program were trying to implement–one that I felt amounted to exploitation of the graduate students. I had heard that the university had a legal clinic that helped students with their legal concerns. Of course, I didn’t understand that the law school’s legal clinic was more interested in helping students deal with their landlords, and, more importantly, that the “university counsel” and the “university legal clinic” were not the same thing. So, I contacted the university counsel to ask for advice and information about dealing with the administrators about this issue. After clearing up my naive misunderstandings, explaining that the university counsel works for–wait for it–the university, and sending me on my way, the counsel actually wound up calling the department head and telling them that their plan actually was problematic.  As a result, the department changed the plan. (And yes, I love being able to write that I was that astute about university issues as a grad student.) So, while the university counsel blew me off in person, my contact with them did address the issue, in a roundabout way.

I then participated in a leadership development program at one of my universities, and part of that was a presentation by a lawyer from the university counsel’s office about their role in the university. This person was as negative about faculty as anyone I have ever heard; as far as she was concerned, we were all either lazy, dealing with drug problems, molesting students or staff, or otherwise not contributing to the mission and goals of the university and/or the state. Of course, that was only matched by the many problems presented by students and staff. I left the training disgusted, and I couldn’t really imagine how the university counsel might actually intervene to support faculty members, students, or staff. And I wondered why this person worked at the university at all, if s/he hated us so much. I have since learned that s/he had little contact with any faculty outside of the negative context, so hir messed up attitude made a little more sense. That said, some perspective might have been helpful to the job.

Later I attended a national professional development training that made me reconsider my negative feelings about the role of university counsel. Okay, so part of that change may be that I developed a little girl crush on the presenter, Tina Gunsalus (aka C.K. Gunsalus), author of “The College Administrator’s Survival Guide.” Gunsalus served as university counsel before her current gig as Director of the National Center for Professional and Research Ethics, and her advice to administrators, especially about management and legal issues, is helpful and clear. And she actually seems to like and respect faculty, even those who present some difficulty. After listening to her describe how she approached her consulting role with administrators, I thought I might enjoy working in that role in the university.

The National Association of College and University Attorneys (NACUA) is clear that most university attorneys are generalists. They offer the following long list of potential legal issues that university attorneys might encounter:

• Administrative Law
• Animal Law
• Athletics & Sports
• Business, Finance & Contracts
• Civil Rights
• Computer & Internet Law
• Constitutional Law
• Development & Fundraising
• Employment
• Environmental Law
• Governance
• Health Sciences
• Immigration
• Intellectual Property
• Labor Relations
• Lobbying and Legislative Affairs
• Litigation
• Real Property Acquisition,
Development & Zoning
• Research & Technology Transfer
• Statutory & Regulatory Compliance
• Student Admissions, Housing,
Discipline and Organizations
• Taxation
• Torts

Looks like they shouldn’t be skipping any classes in their law school careers.

This breadth of need is one reason why some schools are turning to outside firms to act as legal counsel; it is difficult to find the few qualified folks who can handle all of these topics. That said, the university setting is unique enough that I think it pays to have an internal team, even if they sometimes have to get outside support. Plus, as much as administrators come to rely on calls to legal counsel for advice, it is well worth it for the university to pay salaries rather than consulting fees.

Alas, such a job is likely not in my future, as the gf long ago laid down the “no more degrees for you” rule, and I would have to attend law school to create a new career as university counsel. Instead, I will learn from the university counsel every time I interact with them about a personnel, student, or policy issue that arises. And perhaps I can get Ms. Gunsalus to come do a talk at my school sometime soon. Sigh.

Another student misunderstands academic writing culture and gives me a reflective paper full of “this writer believes” and ten-dollar words that obscure rather than illuminate the concepts he wants to discuss. I remember thinking that academic writing had to be complicated, and that using long sentences, preferably with a semi-colon or colon thrown in, would yield a higher grade. Good teachers and papers full of red ink helped me curb that practice.

The point, though, is that I understand where my students are coming from, especially the fuck-ups, and I find it easy to provide the support and encouragement they need to be successful in the future. I was not always a good student; honestly, I was mediocre at best as an undergraduate, with no patience for topics that didn’t interest me (Hello, astronomy and philosophy of aesthetics!). If a teacher challenged me and the subject interested me, though, I was hooked. I still might not turn in my assignment on time, following ALL of the directions carefully, but I did the work and wrote well. So, I was a natural for grad school, where you get to focus on classes in your area of interest, and over time, I got better at meeting teachers’ expectations about professionalism.

Individual faculty and staff do not always reflect an administrator’s own prior experiences or behaviors.

As an administrator, though, I don’t always know how to relate to the faculty I supervise.  It was different when I was simply a colleague. Faculty members with anger management problems or control issues were simply people with quirks that I had to work around. I adopted simple working rules, like “Don’t talk politics with George” and “Make sure to ask Annie what to do, as she likes to be consulted but rarely offers her opinions.” I taught my classes, did my scholarship, and engaged in service with the other few folks who liked to be involved with the operation of the department. As far as the administration went, I was a good go-to girl, for the most part, responsive to “opportunities” offered on campus (course development grants, freshman seminar development projects, etc.), though I know I was sometimes a challenge for those who supervised me, because I was likely to ask questions and challenge decisions that went against my own values. I usually fell in line with the direction of leadership, though, and was quick to toe the party line, as long as it was not in conflict my own ideas about the direction of the program. If I did have a disagreement, as long as I could voice it and feel heard, I could accept the final outcome.

I have come to learn that my style is not typical of most faculty. My responsiveness to calls to evaluate administrators, organize and present student evaluation data, serve on university committees, mentor and advise students, and the like apparently are not shared by all faculty members–at least for all of those I supervise. My friends who have spent more time in administration agree. I am sometimes upset or frustrated by faculty and staff actions/reactions that don’t make sense to me, mostly because they are not what I would do in the situation.

When I noted, with shock, that none of the faculty or staff filled out the university’s evaluation of my performance, my administrative colleagues laughed and assured me that this was normal and, actually, a good sign. After all, one of them told me, if they really had a problem with you, everyone would have complained.

I have learned to pay attention to each individual faculty and staff member: what they value, what they need, what upsets them, and how they manifest (or cover) their emotional responses. I constantly have to remind myself that everyone doesn’t think the way I do, that their goals and experiences are not the same. I try to think about how what I say or do can be interpreted from their many different perspectives. It is a challenging task; though, the longer I stay in this position, the more insight I have into each individual faculty and staff member and the more I can foresee and shape my actions to address their possible problems and concerns.

This job is certainly one of the best learning experiences of my life, and I find myself challenged almost every day by some issue or another. Nonetheless, as Tenured Radical said in her reflective post this week, “Now I am glad to have this experience.”

Idyllic stock pond

Stocked ponds have always been a strange phenomenon from my perspective. If you have enough money and land, you can dig yourself a pond and then hire someone to dump fish in it for you to catch at some later time. So, someone already caught the fish, or perhaps raised the fish in a fishery, and they are now delivering them to you so you can try to catch them yourself. It is like hunting, but they bring the game to your neighborhood. Perhaps I am more likely to be critical of the practice, though, due to my own squeamishness about baiting the hook–or the disgusting sound of tearing the hook out of the fish’s flesh. Truthfully, I am not one to see the innate lure of fishing (pun intended), even if it is in one’s backyard.

Hiring in academe, though, especially from the perspective of the administrator in charge of the hiring process, reminds me of fishing in stocked ponds–though the candidates we hook end up swimming in our own little pond, rather than on a plate. The hiring pond is replenished every year with brand new PhDs, stocked by our friends who are teaching in doctoral programs around the country. Of course, nowadays, more ponds have fish that have been swimming around the pond for a few years. Further, some older fish have been placed back in the hiring pond due to financial exigency of their universities.

One question we fishers of the academic hiring pond face is who is stocking the pond? The Mississippi State University Extension service suggests that people with stocked ponds consider the following concerns regarding their stock fish:

• Is there a warranty on the fish? Keep in mind that fish may be delivered alive but may die several days later because of hauling stress, insufficient tempering to the pond water, or disease. Get it in writing! There is no warranty on the candidate you select, but it is important to consider whether they will thrive in your location. Consider the warmth of your school’s “pond,” whether the other fish are friendly or fighters, and what kind of environment they will enter. 
• Does the supplier produce the fish or buy them from a third party? Vendors who produce their own fish are more likely to know the health history of the fish. One might read this as whether the PhD is coming from a known and respected university or from a smaller or completely online program? I admit to being a little squeamish about doctorates from people who have never had an in-person classroom experience in their doctoral program. How well do the faculty who “worked with” this student actually know them?
• What species and sizes of fish do they supply?Not all
  

  Stocking the pond

  suppliers sell all species of fish, and the sizes, strains, or reproductive capacity might not be right for your pond. In my field, I have seen recent candidates from certain schools who lack (a) the ability to teach courses in different areas of the curriculum, (b) the practical experience that supports their research expertise, and (c) any teaching experience at all. These candidates wouldn’t work in our pond, but they may have done well in one of the R1′s where I used to work.

• References! Ask to contact some of their satisfied customers! Be sure to actually contact those references. Don’t just rely on letters; make the call. Find out how the candidate worked in teams, how well s/he contributed, how independently s/he worked on the dissertation research, and what strengths s/he will bring to the classroom. 

The MLA??

In some fields, such as English, History, Sociology, and other Humanities and Social Sciences, the number of candidates greatly outnumber the available positions, and the fish are fighting over who gets to go for the lure. There are a lot more fish who have been in the pond a little longer. I would imagine that the pond gets a little crowded for these fish, and the challenge becomes catching the right fish.

In other fields (i.e., professional disciplines like nursing, social work, and specialties in economics and some hard sciences), there are too many people fishing and not enough fish in the pond. There can be several reasons for this phenomenon. It is sometimes an issue of overfishing by those outside of academe, where the ponds are larger and offer better fare. (I have heard those discussions about law and medical schools in the past, though I think those times are changing.) Other times, there is a lack of supply, as  in the field of social work: Dr. Jeanne Anastas describes that “From 1999 to 2003, the average number of social work doctoral degrees awarded annually was 258 (Anastas, 2006; Lennon, 2005)”, whereas there are almost 700 accredited social work programs in the country; thus, “we have too few graduates to meet current faculty needs.” Nursing has both issues, with few doctoral programs (either Doctorate of Nursing Practice or PhD) producing graduates, many more lucrative job opportunities outside of academe, and lots of open positions looking for nurses with doctoral degrees.

According to a Special Survey on Vacant Faculty Positions released by AACN in September 2011, a total of 1,088 faculty vacancies were identified in a survey of 603 nursing schools with baccalaureate and/or graduate programs across the country (88.6% response rate). Besides the vacancies, schools cited the need to create an additional 104 faculty positions to accommodate student demand. The data show a national nurse faculty vacancy rate of 7.7%. Most of the vacancies (91.4%) were faculty positions requiring or preferring a doctoral degree. The top reasons cited by schools having difficulty finding faculty were a limited pool of doctorally-prepared faculty (31.3%) and noncompetitive salaries compared to positions in the practice arena (26.72%).

What options do these professional programs have for stocking their ponds? One option is to fish in their own pond by hiring their own graduates. If you have raised the fish yourself, you know the product and you can better sense whether they are prepared to do well in your pond. Building a stocked pond/fishery in your own back yard might help solve the issue for these specific programs, though it has been noted that inbreeding can limit theoretical, experiential, and racial and ethnic diversity in academic departments. While big-time schools have done this forever (cough *Harvard* cough), other schools with doctoral programs that have forbidden the practice before are starting to consider it. Some programs in undergraduate and masters-level institutions don’t have that option, though some are considering creating doctoral programs just for that reason.

No matter where you are fishing this year, I wish you all a happy season. And may you land the right one!

Note: Your fair blogger is reading one of the Parasol Protectorate novels, and she has been bitten by the Victorian bug of manners and etiquette. Hence, I shall be channeling this post via Ms. Tarabotti, who is somewhat repulsed by the washroom behaviors of the modern academic female.

The worst thing about my new position is the loss of a private washroom. (Yes, I know that we Americans call it a bathroom, but washroom seems so much more civilized, doesn’t it? Bless the Canadians and their quaint ways.) Whereas few academics have private washrooms, most academic buildings these days have some single-stall restrooms scattered throughout the building. Those single stalls serve several useful purposes: allowing transgender folk to go to the bathroom without anxiety over being castigated for using what someone assumes to be the “wrong” bathroom; providing an opportunity for parents to take their child to the bathroom regardless of anyone’s gender/sex; and giving those who might need, perhaps, a little more time in the washroom, a place to be without worrying about discomfiting the people in the other stalls. But alas, your fair blogger has taken a position in a building with only large, many-stalled bathrooms that are shared amongst students, faculty, staff, and visitors alike. This congregate setting leads to reflections on what I believe to be missing pieces of public restroom etiquette amongst the academic set. Thus, I shall set below a list of guidelines for the shared restroom:

1. One should not converse with another person while either of them is in the stalls. The most egregious violation of this rule is when one person comes into the restroom and starts a conversation with someone who is already IN the restroom. Nothing is more disconcerting than when someone comes into the bathroom and says, “Ah, LesboProf, is that you? I recognize your shoes…” and proceeds to start a conversation about some workplace topic. I have an office, people, and that is where the discussion belongs!  One friend, caught in such a delicate situation, told me she replied to the chatty visitor, “I am kind of busy in here.” (I am definitely taking this reply and filing it away for future use.) This no-talking rule is especially true when there are other people in the bathroom, as such conversation leaves out the others while requiring that they listen. Thus, it is the height of rudeness. So, if one has started a conversation in the hallway, it should be ended as quickly as possible upon entering the washroom.
2. Do not take or make a cell phone call while in the bathroom. This is a corollary to the last guideline. Talking to another person on a cell phone while in a public restroom represents the height of disrespect for other patrons as well as the person on the other end of the phone. Time spent in the washroom is private time, and it should in no way become a shared moment. The call can wait; let it go to voice mail.
3. Always leave room between yourself and a person already in a stall. When you have entered a washroom that has at least four stalls, and someone is in the first stall, it is best to select a stall that is at least one stall away from the other person. This distance is respectful and allows the other person some sense of privacy. No one should take a stall next to another person unless there is no choice. Any other choice is lazy.
4. Most comments in the washroom are better left unsaid. Many untoward things occur in the washroom. Ladies of a certain age almost always pass gas when sitting down on a commode, and one should never acknowledge that this happened. Similarly, washrooms exist for the disposal of all sorts of waste, and one should not be offended or shocked when people appropriately make use of them, particularly when people work in offices for at least eight hours every day. Nor should one comment on any aftereffects of such an experience. Should someone have truly delicate sensibilities, she could bring a scent-neutralizing spray and leave it in the bathroom, alongside soaps and lotions. (That said, one should be careful about choosing and using such sprays, as they can aggravate asthma and chemical sensitivities amongst other workers.)
5. Take responsibility for the upkeep of the washroom. If you use the last of the tissue paper, be sure to replace the roll or, if you have industrial dispensers that require special implements to open, leave a note for future visitors. Pick up paper towels that have not made it to the trash bin. And for the love of all that is holy, make sure that the commode has flushed. Automatic washrooms do not always function correctly, but they always have a way to manually activate the flushing mechanism. The most attractive washrooms I have seen were in buildings where the women staff actually competed to have the nicest restrooms. Baskets of lotions, soaps, and other ablutions were complimented by sprays of silk flowers and framed pictures. Making the workplace washroom into a more comfortable and welcoming space is always an improvement.

Lest you become overwhelmed by the number of guidelines, I will end my reflection on bathroom etiquette with an overarching quote from the actress Leah Ramini, “There’s a lot involved in going to the bathroom for women.” I simply encourage all women to make the best of our shared washrooms, so that we might all be as comfortable as possible.

Because, as all the wisest philosophers say, shit happens.*

In the end, I will simply chalk it up to a live-and-learn experience. If I had to do it all over again, I would have kept my mouth shut and said nothing to anyone about the position. I wouldn’t have been so blindly trusting and naive either.

There are so many problems with this essay, that I am not sure where to start. First, just because you don’t talk about a position doesn’t mean that people won’t know about it. Our disciplines tend to be fairly small, and we only use a few venues to advertise. There is no such thing as a quiet position opening, especially in the humanities, where applicants outnumber positions by a large margin.

Now, do I think that Edwina Martin had to advertise her institution as a great place to work? Maybe not. Some people might quote the old blues song, “Women be wise. Keep your mouth shut. Don’t advertise your man [read: job].”  But I don’t think that works for those of us who process out loud, whose world becomes more real when we talk about it. Perhaps Martin needed to talk about the institution so she could be excited about the prospect of the job.

I would argue that Martin did nothing wrong, besides being a little self-centered and ignoring the realities of her friend’s situation. She notes that her friend is just like her, which means the friend can fill the same curricular and scholarly shoes Martin fills. Further, the friend wants to live in the area of the institution, which is close to the friend’s family; she isn’t happy at her current city; and she is on the market. Given these factors, Martin should have assumed that her friend might apply. I started to wonder, as I read the piece, if Martin recognizes her own solipsistic thinking and how it might have impacted the relationship as much as her friend’s betrayal.

I have had several situations like this. In graduate school, my best friend asked me to review her proposal for a university grant. When I read through the grant, I realized that I could also apply for the funding, which I needed just as badly as she did. Unlike Martin’s friend, I talked to my friend and told her that I planned to apply for the grant as well. She became very upset, noting that I wouldn’t even know about the grant opportunity had she not asked me for help. I also got upset, noting that the information about the grant should have been shared with all of the graduate students, and that she should have taken the initiative to share the info.

I vividly remember a senior faculty member I trusted talking to both of us about the situation. She explained that we should probably learn to compete nicely with one another, as we would be doing it for the rest of our professional lives. “If you value your friendship, you are going to have to figure out how to maintain it even when you are both up for the same award, grant, or position. That’s the way it works in academe.” And I know she was right. Looking back at the situation now, I can see both sides of our argument have some value to them. But the long and short of it is that no one can lay claim to a job, a grant, or an award.

My friend and I still remain friends to this day, and we have had other hard moments. But we followed our mentor’s advice and talked about the situations in the moment. We also empathized with each other when we faced losses, and shared in the other person’s successes.

Lest you think that I am trying to act like some “fully actualized person” here, one who never struggles with anger, disappointment, and jealousy, I can confirm that this is far from the truth. I had a situation very similar to Edwina Martin, except the person who applied for the job was my best (workplace) friend. He hadn’t talked to me about his decision to apply for a job–one I had been informally promised, but that is another story–so it was a shock when I found out, followed by a double betrayal by both my friend and my Dean when I was told that he had been awarded the position. Unlike Martin, my friend and I had it out. He explained his reasoning, and I shared my anger and disappointment. We likely won’t be friends again like we were, but we will at least be cordial. (As I said, it is a VERY small discipline.)

And now that I look back on the whole process from my comfortable new job, I can even see some possible reasons for the Dean’s decision, which is a good thing, since I have to see her at meetings several times a year. I wish she had been able to share them with me, but I am not sure she could even articulate them at the time. But the long and short of that is that I am still aggravated by the whole process, and I have yet to fully move beyond my feelings about it.

That said, these situations made me idealistic cynic that I am today. I go into new situations with a better sense of who I can trust and why such trust is necessary to my life and my professional well-being. And, not to be a bit of a pollyanna, perhaps things do work out–if not for the best, in a way we can learn and grow. I have learned that I can be okay, even if I don’t get what I want, and even if people I trust disappoint me. It wasn’t the first time, and it won’t be the last, but I refuse to stop trusting people. I hope Martin gets to that place.

Just like the ghosts in Poltergeist, you may not see your new faculty, but they are around.

Just to remind everyone: those faculty members you hired last spring from somewhere far, far away? They are actually moving to your town, setting up their utilities and newspaper delivery (if anyone still gets a hard copy newspaper), working on their syllabi, and finding the closest restaurants/movie theaters/post offices/etc. They *and any accompanying family members* could also be lonely in their new place, if they have no connections to friends or family in the area.

I have had some horrible moving experiences and some good ones, and contact with the people from my new department made a real difference. In our first big move, we arrived in the small college town on July 4th weekend. Our new home–the first we had ever bought–didn’t have any working water or electricity, the former owner having them turned off, even though he told us he wouldn’t. After spending a night at a local motel that would take us in with our dog and waking up early to call for service, we waited in a very hot house for the movers to arrive the next day. It was miserable. Several days later, the sewer backed up into the bathroom, and we began a round of repairs of our poorly working facilities.

It then got worse for us, as we sat alone in our new home for more than three weeks. We unpacked boxes, watched summer storms blow by, made our way around town to Target and grocery stores, and caught up on previous seasons of the Sopranos… but we were lonely and bored.

At the end of three weeks, I finally called the chair of the search committee and invited he and his wife to go out to dinner with us. I admitted that we were lonely and needed some company that would get us out of the house! They were very gracious and turned the invitation around, inviting us to come to their house for dinner. It was a good time, and both the gf and I were so grateful to have someone to new with whom we could spend some time.

That said, it was the last invite we got until school began. To make matters worse, my gf left to return to school in another state, and it would be months before I received another invitation from a colleague to share a meal.

My next big move, to another small college town, was so much different. Colleagues contacted me from the moment I accepted the position. People took us out to lunch and dinner, invited us to their homes, and offered all kinds of advice, information, and support. One colleague brought over tools to help us install a washer and dryer, and another sent an information sheet with names and contact info for hairdressers, doctors, veterinarians, etc. I was so impressed by the welcome provided by these folks, I didn’t know what to do with myself. It really made an impression, though.

Now that I am in a leadership position, I try to remember how challenging those first few months in a new town can be, both for the faculty member and their family. I have been in contact with the incoming faculty members, making sure we had the dates of their arrival. We notified them about the upcoming university orientation for new faculty. I worked with our administrative staff to set up their computers and get them on the campus email, unit listservs, and the unit website, so that they could hit the ground running.

I also had my assistant send out a notice to all of the current faculty, letting them know when the new faculty were arriving and how they could be reached (cell phone & email). I encouraged the faculty members to connect with the newbies and do what they could to help folks feel welcome, like inviting them to dinner, drinks, a trip to the farmer’s market, an evening out, etc. If you can manage to invite the whole family, for those who have kids, it is even better.  (FYI: It is hard to find a sitter in a new town.) If you know when they are arriving with the movers, sometimes bringing a couple pizzas or a “welcome basket” can be helpful. It is nice not to have to think about cooking when you spent the day unloading heavy boxes.

I would also encourage administrators to plan several different kinds of welcome activities for new faculty. Work-based gatherings could focus on bringing them up to speed on campus stuff (i.e., how to get on the web-based course management systems, order textbooks, etc.), while lunchtime and after hours gatherings could provide informal settings for new faculty to meet the rest of the faculty and staff. Also, reinforcing the message “We are so happy to have you here!” goes a long way to the new faculty member feeling welcome. I have had newcomer orientation experiences where I got tired of the “Hello, my name is…” quality, but I always appreciated having varied opportunities, over time, to get to know folks. And even my more introverted friends are glad to meet people in their new towns, though they tend to focus on one or two people at a time, even in larger gatherings.

I am following my own advice: I plan to have a dinner with the new faculty when they arrive. This first connection will be followed by an off-campus gathering early in the semester for all of the faculty and their spouses/partners, so everyone can get to know each other in a more relaxed setting. I hope this will help set the tone for the faculty to be welcoming and approachable.

Last week, one young, single faculty member arrived in town. I invited her to meet me for dinner at a local restaurant near her home. We talked about her move (frustrating and difficult), things going on in town, getting a driver’s license, and places to eat and work out. We also discussed work-related issues,  including answering her questions about the way the university works and some of the changes going on in our program. At the end of our meal, she thanked me for “remembering her” and “getting her out of the house.” I hope that these little gestures help her feel valued and welcomed, and that she sees our school and our community as a place she wants to be.

Summer as a full-time administrator is a whole different kettle of fish. I was honestly worried I would hate it. First, I still have to get up (on time!) and go to the office, every day. I have to work (every day!)… Oh, the humanity!! I have come to find, though, that year-round administrative work isn’t quite as bad as I expected it would be.

The daily business of the university continues throughout the year, though now it moves at a slower, quieter, summer pace. Faculty drift in and out sporadically, and it is nice to get to visit with them without being interrupted by students, other faculty, the phone, and other mishegoss. I don’t resent faculty their time away, and, in fact, I am enjoying the break from their everyday complaints  interruptions.

I am also enjoying not feeling guilty as I watch my partner head off to work every day. It feels pretty indulgent to be sitting at home for three months, even if I am working on research, writing, and class prep some of that time. Many years of “faculty summers” caused her to get a little grumpy with me when the spring semester would end. And I would get grumpy with her desire to plan my days, since I was “home with a flexible schedule.” People hired to make repairs at the house, take returns at stores, and mail packages got to know me well in the summers. But this year, we both are at work every day, and it feels, well, kind of like normal couples, both of whom are not university faculty, must feel. We enjoy our nights, processing over dinner about what went on at work, and we spend our weekends together eating fresh tomatoes from the produce stand, hanging out at the house, and having fun with friends.

One real pleasure of coming to work in the summer is getting to know the other 12-month folks more deeply. They are a fantastic group of people: administrative assistants, receptionists, IT support staff, administrators from other departments, and so on. With this slower pace, we actually have time to talk about everyone’s families, people’s experiences at the university, and recommendations for food, entertainment, and other attractions in my adopted community.

Another nice thing about summer on campus is getting to dress more casually. I am never what one would call a “suit woman”; I am not butch enough to pull off the manly suit and not thin enough to be the svelte newscaster type. Plus, suits are too many layers for me. I tend to get warm in the office, and I wind up taking off the jacket anyway. And I hate “girl shoes” (i.e., pumps or anything with much heel, except boots) and hose, and suits don’t really work with my Birks. (What?? I am a lesbian with wide, flat feet. It is mandated that I wear Birkenstocks.) But as an administrator, there is the assumption that I will “dress professionally” in the workplace during the academic year, and most days, I do (as much as a Birkenstock-wearing lesbian who eschews suits can manage.) But summer! Summer allows shorts, capri pants, light fun tops, modest sundresses, etc. The choices are awesomeness, and each outfit works fine with my Birkenstock sandals.

Some things haven’t changed in my move to administration. The summer still seems to be moving too quickly. Many projects have sucked up time this summer: office moves, accreditation and administrative reports, program-related data collection and analysis, budget review (for 2011-2012) and preparation (for 2012-2013), staff hiring, and the like. Going to the office provides a regular work schedule, something that actually is quite helpful to getting work done. I also hope to get some of my own research written up in the quiet times, along with pulling together a new course prep. (Someday, I will learn to stop with the new courses already… No, really, I will.) I feel good that I have gotten a lot done, without the stress or anxiety common during the academic year.

Lest you think I am an all-work kind of woman, I am planning something of a stay-cation before the summer ends, when I can detach from work and chill out at home for a week or so. I may take a short day trip or two, but I am hoping to go to the movies, eat out with friends, and just enjoy summer in my new-ish town. And I have also been taking random days to work at home, here and there, to get a chance to focus, more-or-less uninterrupted, on my writing. (I find that hourly checks on email and answering my cell phone–called only for pressing business–are not a big disruption to my work, and they are better than the regular interruptions at the office.)

All in all, I am surprised to report that I am enjoying my summer in administration. I thought I would miss my summers as a faculty member, but I find that, for the most part, I am pretty comfortable being a year-round administrator and office person. Who knew?