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First PersonAcademic Hiring 101: Intro to Budget Constraints
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Eight months after starting my first tenure-track job, I found myself searching for a new one. Early in January of this year, I realized that the program and the university where I had applied, interviewed, and eagerly accepted an offer turned out to be something quite different from what was presented to me. I had been told the program was healthy and growing; turned out it was neither. As if that wasn't enough of a lesson in university economics, I learned another one after I began applying for new jobs. Of the 15 or so applications that I sent out, I was a finalist for eight and received six invitations for on-campus interviews. Not bad, I thought. I'll take my time, visit each place, and make a decision (hopefully) while having a wonderful dinner with my wife. Then reality hit, and it came under the guise of the economy. You should know that four of the six institutions considering me as a candidate were research universities -- two in the North and two in the South. The other two potential employers were small, private colleges -- again, one in the North and the other in the South. Because of that geographic balance, I soon learned that economic problems were plaguing not just one region of the United States, but the whole nation. The two small colleges were much more straightforward about their economic troubles than the universities. Both colleges thanked me for my interest but said they would be unable to fill the position I'd applied for this year because of budgetary constraints. OK, no problem, this approach I understand. What I didn't understand was the approach taken by two of the four universities. I was thrilled when a very well-known and prominent university in the Northeast called to let me know that I was a finalist for a position there. It was "the call" -- the invitation to an interview I'd been hoping for. But my excitement quickly ebbed when I heard the chairman of the search committee say, "but, we don't have the money in our budget for campus visits." The chairman explained that the dean hadn't decided whether to pay for campus visits by job candidates, but I could feel free to call and check at any time. We ended the short, mysterious conversation with his saying that he would contact me soon. By the tone of his voice and by the way he extended the invitation, I believe he meant, "If you would like to come and interview and visit campus then you are more than welcome if you pay for it yourself." I have yet to hear again from him. Then came the call from a bachelor's-level state university in the North. While I was talking to four members of the search committee on a conference call, the chairwoman asked if I knew anyone in the state so that I could take a mini-vacation because the department didn't have the money to pay my travel expenses and would like for me not to have wasted my money or time if I wasn't offered the position. Unfortunately, I didn't know anyone in that part of the country. I wonder, though, if I had, could I have brought my friend along for the interviews and the campus visit (and to pay for lunch)? The third university, this time in the South, contacted me and let me know that I was a finalist, but (you guessed it) because of budgetary constraints it could not afford to pay for campus visits and interviews. This time I kept my excitement in check and thanked the caller, gave the department all the accolades usually offered when interacting with search committees for the first time, and asked to be kept informed of the university's budgetary status. And I was -- 45 days later, I received an e-mail message asking if I would be available for a campus visit in the near future. By this time I had already accepted my current tenure-track position at another university in the South. These experiences taught me, if nothing else, that academe is not recession-proof. I'm still trying to figure out why I had believed that. In my search for a new academic home, I encountered many other unforeseen factors and events. Swimming through the sea of the unexpected helped me learn a few things about searching, finding, and accepting a new position. Every search process takes on a new and distinct life depending on the committee, the department, and the university. Norms and guidelines have to be followed, of course, but these norms and guidelines are context-specific. Just because the application deadline is March 1 doesn't mean that the university will contact candidates in any uniform amount of time. My own experience ranges from being asked to come for a campus interview five days after the application deadline to being contacted four months after the deadline. The passage of time isn't always a negative sign. Understanding that different concepts of time exist within academe is not hard to grasp. What did strike me as unnerving was when a state institution called and invited me to campus for an interview the next day! This particular university was about a three-hour plane trip from my location, and the search committee chairwoman called me at 3 p.m. (This was the same chairwoman who asked whether I knew anyone I could visit in the state since the committee couldn't afford to pay my travel expenses. She also asked about my current salary, to make sure I wasn't too expensive for the department. I tried to give a diplomatic answer by providing a salary range, but my answer was not well received by the chairwoman or the three other members of the search committee on the conference call. In the end I thanked them for their interest but said my duties would not allow me to leave on such short notice.) I offer a few final reflections on my first academic employer (a small, private institution in the Midwest), not to cast a shadow on the university that I was a part of for 10 short months but to help others who find themselves academically misplaced for one reason or another. Before you accept an offer, you need to investigate on your own the financial status of your intended departmental home. The search committee that offered me my first tenure-track position told me that the graduate program was very healthy and had been growing for the past few years, and was thus in need of another colleague. Made sense to me: A growing program needs more professors. No problem -- or was there? Six months into the job, I was approached separately by two senior faculty members. The first professor took me aside and bluntly asked if I knew of any other university that was hiring because the graduate program that I was a part of would not be around much longer. At that moment, I understood what deer must feel like when they stare into the oncoming headlights of a truck. A few weeks later, the other senior faculty member asked me inside her office, and told me that a federal grant that supported many of our program's students was about to run out, and hence would mean the end of the program in a year or so. This was six months into the job. The ink wasn't even dry on my contract. I remained calm, expressed my concern for the program's future as well, and then proceeded to jump out of the way of the oncoming headlights. In the end, I received two offers and landed a position that seems tailor-made for my expertise and background. The university is well-respected and the faculty members are very involved in their chosen fields with enthusiastic students challenging us at every turn. However, what I most enjoy about my new home is that I didn't need to have friends close by in order to be hired. |
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