[This is a guest post by Courtney Danforth, an Assistant Professor of English at the College of Southern Nevada who tweets as @csdanforth. Courtney previously wrote The Academic Wardrobe: Planning for ProfHacker.]
What would you do if it was announced that your entire department was to be eliminated as a response to a campus budget crisis?
What if your significant other were suddenly incapacitated by a stroke and required your care?
What if you suffered a major head injury during the middle of a semester?
We’ve recently noted the anniversaries of Hurricane Katrina and the 9/11 terrorist attack. We spent the summer watching or assisting with responses to the Gulf oil spill and recovery from Haiti’s earthquake. We have little trouble recognizing that each of these four events, whether man-made or natural in origin, constitutes a disaster, but the disasters that we experience personally tend to grab fewer headlines. Of course, I certainly make no claim that career disaster is as devastating as the events we typically call “disaster,” but, unfortunately, many of us are both less prepared for the effects of personal disaster and more likely to experience them.
A disaster is any sudden event from which we experience major damage, loss, destruction, or failure. The events themselves make good headlines (and what better time of year to note this than wildfire and hurricane season here in the US), but it is the losses that define a disaster. In terms of career disaster, losses would be inabilities to continue the career. For academics, these losses might include the inability to engage deep thinking, the inability to be present in a classroom, the inability to produce knowledge, and the inability to fulfill service obligations.
Disaster planning is the preparation for all phases of disaster experience, including: mitigation, preparedness, response, and recovery. Disaster planning for community-sized events (fire/flood/earthquake/hurricane/tsunami/civil unrest/etc.) is both a long-standing and a growing field. Planners for these disasters work on issues of survival such as food, water, shelter, medicine, and security. Enterprise-level disaster planning, increasingly common, is led by technology service organizations and cultural heritage institutions. At this level, disaster planning is often concerned with continuity of service and preservation of collections.
The topic of this post, disaster planning at the career level in academia, is more closely aligned with enterprise concerns, but I hope that most of us are fortunate enough never to need to draw on disaster planning at any level. Nevertheless, an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. Perhaps you want to devote some energy to planning for your own potential disasters—they happen. As with most things, the better prepared you are, the more likely you are to make good decisions at critical moments.
A comprehensive disaster plan includes four phases. The first, disaster mitigation, is the taking of measures to identify disaster hazards and minimize their effects. What hazards exist for academics? Do you make your living primarily through a university appointment? If so, then losing that paycheck and benefits through losing that appointment probably constitutes a career disaster. If your career depends largely on research and publication, then loss of data or reputation may constitute a disaster. To minimize the effects of these hazards, you might prioritize your understanding of and adherence to the policies on and conditions of your appointment (if tenable), establish protocols for redundant offsite backup, and nurture respectful and close relationships with publishers. There are many other hazards for academics. Which hazards are you likely to face?
Disaster preparedness is the capacity to respond effectively to disaster. Preparedness includes resource identification, training, awareness, insurance, and rehearsal. If you have an earthquake or hurricane kit at home, for example, then you are already partially prepared for these disasters. These kits often include supplies for survival (food, water), medical needs (first aid, medications, and sanitation), communication (radio, batteries, phone numbers), travel (maps, fuel), and security (flashlights, insurance and identification documents, cash). Some of those supplies are also useful in an academic career disaster kit. With luck, you won’t need desalination gear or a flare gun, but you could well require an emergency fund, copies of insurance policies, and a bottle of aspirin.
Probably the most useful element of a career disaster kit is contact information for colleagues (both within and beyond your current institution), payroll and benefits personnel, administration (union rep, chair, editors, dean, provost), and maybe students. Storing and maintaining this information inside your organizational networks facilitates assistance, should you need it, from campus colleagues, and duplicating that data store through some outside system permits easier access for assistance from someone outside the institution (such as a family member). Depending on the disaster, you might need one access point instead of the other.
Disaster response is actions taken to minimize disaster damages and losses. A rule of thumb for officials is that, during a disaster, 80% of people will do nothing, 10% will panic (act badly), and 10% of people will start to put things to rights. Preparation makes the difference in how you are able to react.
Disaster recovery, usually a long-term undertaking, is actions taken to return everything to “normal” or “tolerable.” After a flood, this might mean drying out furniture and replacing drywall. After a medical crisis, it means treatment and therapy. In many disasters, the recovery period is a chance to improve on previous conditions. In New Orleans and Greensburg, disaster recovery has included environmentally sustainable rebuilding initiatives. For a career, disaster recovery may mean finding a new job or pursuing a different career, either of which may be a return to normalcy or an opportunity for improvement.
The career disaster you experience may not be your own. You might call it “karma” or “collegiality” or maybe “reciprocal altruism”, but (I believe that) planning to respond to disasters around you is an important part of disaster preparedness. When you pitch in to cover classes for a colleague with a family member in the hospital or otherwise react to someone else’s disaster, you not only buy good will, you also have an opportunity to rehearse your own disaster plan and test your protocols.
Most importantly, you can enact the sort of response you want to occur for any disaster and build a community that is capable of and willing to respond to a disaster of any size. Can you assist with disasters in your communities? Will you grade a batch of essays if your grad student is hospitalized after a wreck? Does your department need a plan to staff courses if someone suddenly died? Can you pitch in if your library floods or a blizzard snows in the dorms? If you can imagine someday needing disaster assistance, you should probably consider participating in other people’s disaster recovery when you’re able.
Have you witnessed or experienced an academic career disaster? How did you or others respond? What do you wish had happened instead? What hazards should academics beware? Do you have a disaster plan?




6 Responses to Disaster Planning and the Academic Career
fambus2009 - September 15, 2010 at 4:41 pm
a pertinent post… http://wp.me/p11Gzr-d
bbaylis - September 15, 2010 at 5:56 pm
A personal disaster: I have had 40 years of academic admistrative experience, mostly at the cabinet level, which usuauly means that when presidents changes it is time to look for a new job. THis happened to me for the 4th time, a little over 2 years ago. As soon as the new president was announced I began looking for a new job. I interviewed at two schools for ACO and was offered the job at one of them. I verbally accepted and had the contract in my briefcase when during a committee meeting at the school I was leaving (I was still working) I had what appeared to be a stroke. Severe headache, nauseated, profuse sweating, slurred speech, turned a very pale white. Peopel in the committee meeting called 911 and I was rushed to the hospital. WHen my wife got to the hospital, she was met by a doctor who told her to call the family because it was BAD. The doctor said, “If I survived, I would never be the same.” After a CAT SCAN and A MRI, it was determined that it was not a stroke, but a burst blood vessel in a brain turmor. A benign tumor was removed three days later, but I was left with most of the aftermaths of a stroke. I had a mild case of aphasia, but strong enough so that I could perform the duties of a CAO. I called the new school and they graciously released me from my verbal commitment. BUt here I am 3 years away from the Social Security retirement age and 8 years away from the time when I had planned to retire. Then the second kick came, 9 months after the surgery, I had 4 grand mal seizures, so I have been on anti-seizure medication for the past 9 months and no hope of ever getting off them. I’ve been on disability pay for two years. It has been adequate but not what I was making as a cabinet officer. This has complicated our retirements plans severly. I had planned to write and consult the last several working years. I can still write but it takes me forever working around the aphasia, and since I don’t have an official position, it is hard to get a platform from which to speak, even if I could. THe aphasia hit my oral abilities much harder than my writing abilities. Today, I had another kick in the stomach, rather chest. My cardiologist told me that I will need a pace maker to correct an A-Fib condition that has not responded to meds. What can I do now? I can serve as an example to others to never take tomorrow for granted, and make your retirement early enough in your career, so that they can survive most disasters.
bbaylis - September 15, 2010 at 6:08 pm
In my previous comment, #2, after saying that I could write, I demonstrated some my difficulties with a number of errors, mostly spelling or grammar. Probablly the most greivous was omitting the word “NOT” from the sentence discussing whether I could perform the duties of a CAO with my aphasia. I know that I can NOT serve as a CAO with my current condition. So I am left at home reading the CHE and commenting on the articles, and trying to write a book about what I have seen in 40 years in higher education.
sanjoaquin - September 16, 2010 at 10:47 am
The previous post and the article both contain advice of great wisdom. We don’t like to acknowledge the possibility of disaster; however preparedness is a very logical strategy. Much better to be ready and NOT need it. May you all find yourselves there….
csdanforth - September 16, 2010 at 2:07 pm
Thank you for the endorsement, @sanjoaquun, and the link, @fambus2009.I’m sorry to hear about your disaster, @bbaylis, but appreciate your sharing your story. I wish I had a good solution (I don’t) for you, but I can offer my empathy. My own disaster occurred much earlier in my career than yours, and there’s some additional flexibility for recovery there, but not a lot. I think career disaster is one of those situations where the solutions and efforts mostly have to come from those who aren’t enduring the disaster–those with some critical (but caring) distance–because the subject of the disaster must necessarily commit energy towards personal recovery (physical, spiritual, mental health). Unfortunately, unless there’s a community already primed to respond to disaster, it’s hard to get started. I had hoped that, with this post, I could encourage people to be attentive to the issue before they need to. Best wishes for your recovery and endurance!
pelinore - September 16, 2010 at 8:45 pm
I am not sure is this qualifies as a diaster in the sense discussed here, but I have had a career disaster. I taught at a private college for ten years, obtaining tenure and a promotion while I was there. I left this college for a variety of reasons, such as to be closer to my family. I took a job as an tenure-track assistant prof. Two years latter the new school decided not to renew my contract. I applied to some other colleges, and got all the way to some campus interviews, but did not get the job. I am now teaching high school to make ends meet. Is my career in higher-ed over?