First Person

Tenure-Track Heaven

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By Susan J. Snooks

"You have all the things we're looking for."

I knew what was coming next.

"A finished dissertation, a tenure-track position in your field, and windows!"

"Windows" I asked puzzled? That one I hadn't heard. I thought maybe they were referring to my computer software program.

"You even have an office with windows!" my graduate-school friends said as they walked away shaking their heads. They couldn't understand my dissatisfaction. Many of them were still hammering away at dissertations, working out of graduate-assistant offices that were more like cells, while others had the degree in hand but not the job.

"And to top that off," I wanted to yell back, "I have bookshelves!"

I knew my colleagues had a point. Yet I couldn't stop thumbing through the growing stack of job ads that I had stowed away in my secret desk drawer at work.

Many newly minted Ph.D.'s spend years searching for coveted tenure-track positions in their field of study. Never mind the advantage of not having to move to acquire a job located only minutes from home among colleagues and friends that you know and are comfortable with.

I have all these things and am willing to give them up for another position in either academe or private industry. Why?

Before I tell you, there is something you should know. I am not one of those periodic market testers never satisfied with their lot. I am grateful. I've heard those stories of desperate doctorates traveling from coast to coast interviewing on a shoestring, only to be told they didn't make the cut. And I can't imagine adjuncting my way to tenure-track heaven or being forced to take some real-world work.

My hell is a different story.

I started my career in academe at a small public college tucked away in a mountain valley. With a bachelor's degree in elementary education and a master's degree in communication, I began as a junior lecturer teaching a freshman seminar in teacher education in a small, but growing department. Its faculty members took me in like a pup. I had a difficult but deeply satisfying first year in the ivory tower.

Seeing potential, the administration offered me a three-year, unpaid leave of absence to coincide with a full-support fellowship that I had received from a national foundation to finish my doctorate in human development. I jumped at the chance. I was going to be able to work full time on my doctoral studies with a promise to return to a new tenure-track position at the college.

Still wet behind the ears, I packed my bags and left the confines of the small college that had nurtured my development. I was headed for a big-city university to earn my stripes.

After three years of study, two summers of hot fieldwork in Africa, and one cool research visit to Europe, I returned to the small college as the newly crowned Ph.D. I moved the percentage of terminal degrees at the college up one proud notch.

Yet, upon my return I immediately noticed that everything seemed the same as when I had left. Heads were grayer, one or two people had retired, a new addition was being added to the library, and my office had a new paint job. Otherwise, little had changed. One department meeting had almost adjourned before anyone realized that they had just spent two hours rehashing last year's agenda that the secretary had mistakenly handed out. It was as if the world had turned and left the small college in its shadow.

And I didn't make things any easier. Instead of coming back into the fold like a lamb, I came in like a lion. I aggressively led an important committee that reported to the president. I made motions, suggested changes, and nipped at the heels of some elder professors with my brand new knowledge. To the surprise of the department chairman, I threw out the textbooks in one of my courses in favor of a collection of journal articles and guided a student campaign to demand representation on key college committees. I was like a rebellious teenager returning home after a summer on the beach, and the college soon realized that the person who had left was not the same person who had returned.

I was exhausted by the end of the year. My office was a mess, meetings were being held in my absence, and my colleagues were avoiding my glance. I finally broke down and told them what they already knew -- I was unhappy and looking for a new job. What I didn't tell them was that I had an interview already waiting in the wings.

They seem to have understood and gently chided me to take any offers from prospective employers to the administration to match. Like shocked parents coming to grips with the stranger before them, they misinterpreted my dissatisfaction as being unhappy with my salary. While the pay at the college was certainly lower than at peer institutions of its size, no amount of money would make me stay.

With that said, I smiled and thanked them. I returned to my office and took out the phone number hidden in my desk drawer.

"Yes, two o'clock Monday afternoon will be fine," I told the secretary, confirming my interview at a large national organization located 83 miles from my front door.

With my hand on the knob of my office door, I glanced back at the rays of sunshine beaming through the tall office windows and the bookshelves lined with Freud, Dewey, and Vygotsky. I took a deep breath and shut the door.