When Your In Box Is Always Full

Scholars struggle to keep technology from controlling their lives

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By PIPER FOGG

"Hello, I'm in a meeting, can I call you back? Who is this?" That's how Ellen Ernst Kossek answers her phone when someone is in her office with her. The Michigan State University labor-relations professor could let her voice mail pick up, but she doesn't want to miss anyone important. Kossek, who studies human-resource management and organizational behavior, also tries to respond to every e-mail message as soon as she gets it. Whether from a student, a scholar with whom she collaborates online, or a complete stranger looking for advice on his dissertation (she obliged), all get her prompt attention.

Technology has made academics hyperaccessible. Many feel they now have to be hyperresponsive.

"I don't want to make people feel like I'm blowing them off," says Kossek. "I feel like it's kind of my job to respond."

Kossek, co-author of a book about navigating work-life boundaries, called CEO of Me: Creating a Life That Works in the Flexible Job Age (Wharton School Publishing, 2007), admits she has far from perfected the enterprise. For her, as for many academics, managing the influx of daily communication has become a second job. And while many scholars like the flexibility and creative opportunities technology affords, they have trouble turning off their gadgets. That can eat into time reserved for uninterrupted reading, writing, reflecting, or working in the laboratory.

Philip B. Stark, a professor of statistics at the University of California at Berkeley, creates machine-graded exams, uses instant messaging to chat with colleagues, and has spent thousands of hours writing an interactive online textbook. Despite — or perhaps because of — his fluency in technology, he finds it hard not to constantly check his iPhone for new e-mail messages. "It's addictive," says Stark. "It's really a battle to set it aside for four or five hours."

That kind of pressure to log in can lead to what Patricia Wallace, who writes about the psychology of the Internet and how it has transformed the workplace, calls an "increased cognitive load." In other words, too much on the brain. "We used to have enforced periods of mental relaxation," says Wallace, who directs the IT department and runs the online student-learning programs at the Johns Hopkins University Center for Talented Youth. Now, she says, "Driving, waiting in line, waiting for the elevator — all those times are potential productivity time slots. You feel guilty if you don't use them."

Like any tool, technology needs to be used wisely, says Barry Schwartz, a professor of psychology at Swarthmore College and author of The Paradox of Choice: Why More Is Less (HarperCollins, 2005). "The critical thing is to have enough self-control to use what's fabulous about it without being enslaved by it."

As a corporate lawyer-turned-academic, William G. Childs came from a culture of BlackBerrys, Treos, and instant responses. Clients at his Washington firm expected him to be connected. So when he arrived a few years ago at the law school at Western New England College, it was second nature to create e-mail list groups for his classes and Google Alerts to keep up on the latest legal news. He also started his own blog, TortsProf Blog, where he posts about four entries a week, alongside other lawyers'. His only complaint about technology is his addiction to checking his e-mail account. "I feel like I could probably budget my time better if I did it in chunks of time," he says.

When Childs first entered academe, he noticed a segment of scholars who were "proudly antitechnology," he says. "It's a little irresponsible," he complains. "It just isn't preparing students well."

David Parry, an assistant professor of emerging media and communications at the University of Texas at Dallas, agrees. As technology has transformed society over the last two decades, he says, other institutions have had to adapt. "The academic institution operates as a monastic enclave," says Parry. "It creates a real cultural clash."

Parry finds his students appreciate that he responds quickly to their messages, by sending an e-mail or text message from his computer or phone. "Students get frustrated if they don't get a response within 24 to 48 hours," says Parry. He also uses Twitter, an application that lets users publish short bursts of text on a central Web site via text messaging. For example, he will tell students when he is available at a campus cafe for an hour if they want to meet him. He rarely talks on his cellphone; he doesn't even know his own number by heart. And for those trying to reach him on a land line, forget it. He doesn't have one, not even at his office.

Parry worries that some professors, particularly those who grew up in the typewriter era, don't understand how to use today's technological tools to their benefit. For instance, older generations tend to treat e-mail messages more like letters, he says. They feel they have to compose a meticulously drafted letter before hitting "send." The current generation treats e-mail more like passing Post-it notes, he says. He says scholars simply have to become comfortable ignoring technology when tasks require prolonged and focused attention.

That is sometimes easier said than done. Kossek finds that her most productive time for academic writing is in the morning. But she usually ends up checking her e-mail account instead, partly because it's there. "It eats up creative time," she says. In her book CEO of Me, she encourages readers to think about what they value, and to manage their work-life relationship accordingly. She says people need to learn how to better organize the way they communicate, such as using auto-generated e-mail messages while they are busy with something important. Still, she struggles herself. "I'm trying to learn to say, thank you for your note and I'll get back to you in a few days," she says.

John Hawks, an anthropologist at the University of Wisconsin at Madison, runs a popular blog about paleoanthropology and evolution, so it's a wonder he doesn't get bombarded with e-mail messages. But anyone who has read the FAQ section on his site, john hawks weblog, will know why. Readers have to jump through hoops to find his e-mail address. "I am always pleased to hear from readers who brave Google to find my address," says a posting on his site. "But please keep in mind that I teach around 400 students a semester, all of whom have e-mail priority." That disclaimer helps filter out "the cranks," says Hawks, but even so, some people still think they've found a really important fossil in their backyard, he says. It's usually just a deer bone.

Once one has learned to master, or at least manage, technology, it can open up new avenues for creation. Hawks constantly gets tips from blog readers about interesting articles. And now that he has helped transfer 10,000 images of fossils from slides into digital form, he can carry them wherever he goes. He has also downloaded 5,000 journal articles onto his computer. "In graduate school," he says, "I used to spend two hours a day in the library reading things, photocopying things, and I had huge files." Now all his files are on his computer. (Yes, he has an elaborate back-up system.)

Technology enables Hawks to do things he wouldn't otherwise, he says. He can upload original art onto the Web while working from home and playing with his four children, all under the age of 8. And to keep up with his blog when he went to Yellowstone National Park last year on vacation, he set his computer to automatically post entries, so no one knew he was gone.

Not all professors embrace technology with the same eagerness. Schwartz, author of The Paradox of Choice, is no Luddite, but he waits as long as possible before buying into the latest tech craze. In his book, he argues that more choices can make life more complicated, not necessarily easier or better. Consider choosing a cellphone. There are so many different types, accessories, functions, and calling plans. Schwartz's approach is to find someone he trusts and get good advice. "I outsource as many decisions as I can," he says. (Luckily he has a friend who works at a nearby Verizon store.)

Schwartz's concern about technology and academe is that the nature of scholarly work is limitless in both depth and scope. "There is simply no end," he says. And because professors could now theoretically spend every minute of every day working, that means there is always a choice whether to work or not. Schwartz has a Jewish friend who was so fed up with technology, he says, that he became Orthodox partly for the mandatory break from it all.

But for most of academe, the benefits of technology outweigh the drawbacks, says Jane E. Fountain, a professor of political science and public policy at the University of Massachusett at Amherst. An expert on technology and government, Fountain points out that collaborative research on a grand scale would not work without the present infrastructure. The key to managing technology, she says, is being disciplined and organized, and understanding the costs of letting it control you. Checking e-mail obsessively is like spending small sums of money throughout the day, she says, without realizing how much it adds up. "The beeps and the buzzes are just constant interruptions to the flow of thought," she says. When she has the luxury of two or three hours of free time, Fountain tries to turn her BlackBerry off. "It's a direct extension of closing your door," she says.

Not that people stop knocking. When she turns her BlackBerry back on, new e-mail messages are inevitably waiting.