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CatalystThe Community College Scientist
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As a geologist, Jonathan R. Bryan has published only two papers in the last 10 years. And he's not even sure he can keep up that pace. In the world of publish or perish, Mr. Bryan's career should already be over. Fortunately for him, he doesn't live in that world. He is an instructor in earth sciences at Okaloosa-Walton Community College, in Niceville, Fla., a small college in the Florida panhandle where your performance in the classroom means far more than the length of your CV. In 2000, the Council for the Advancement and Support of Education named him professor of the year for the state of Florida. Not bad for a guy who couldn't get a job at a "real" college. After earning his Ph.D. in 1991 from the University of Tennessee at Knoxville, Mr. Bryan applied for a lot of university positions but never got more than a nibble. "I was often told I made it into the top 10 percent, but the job can only go to one person," he says. "You've got to have a plan B." As the competition for university jobs intensifies, more and more Ph.D.'s are willing to give two-year colleges a try. Those who succeed will find a life that's far removed from the grind of research universities. Community college isn't a rat race. It's more like a rat jog-in-place. And if you see teaching in your future, it just might be the place for you. Help Wanted According to the 1999 National Study of Postsecondary Faculty, community colleges employ 8,500 full-time faculty members in the sciences. More than 40 percent of them have doctoral degrees. A Ph.D. may not be necessary for landing a job, but it often helps. "Around here, applications from Ph.D.'s get put on the top of the pile," Mr. Bryan says. But even Ph.D.'s shouldn't expect community colleges to just throw open their doors. Ralph Gorton, a professor of biology at Lansing Community College in Lansing, Mich., says his college recently received 95 applications for an opening in the biology department. A third of the applicants had Ph.D.'s, including one from Harvard. According to Mr. Bryan, openings at Okaloosa-Walton tend to attract about 20 applicants. Of those, five will be active scientists with Ph.D.'s, he says. (Most of the rest will be aging community-college teachers who hope to retire in Florida.) In the near future, scientists interested in community colleges will have plenty of jobs to apply for, says George Boggs, president of the American Academy of Community Colleges. "A lot of faculty were hired in the '60s," he says. "We're expecting a big turnover." Teaching First Who will fill those positions? Community colleges hire scientists who are willing to focus exclusively on teaching. They must have a talent for explaining ideas, and they must enjoy working with students. The typical instructor has four classes that meet four times a week. "To a university instructor, that would be absurd," Mr. Bryan says. Community-college scientists are generally free to pursue their own research, but they shouldn't expect much support from their colleges. Mr. Bryan, for example, never received any sort of start-up package to build a laboratory. Every piece of equipment provided by his college is earmarked for use in the classroom. The modest amount of research he has conducted in the last 10 years was financed entirely through a few small grants. If he ever got really serious about independent research, the college might hire an assistant to help him with his teaching duties. And that's the best he could hope for. Even if they can't always pursue their own research, community-college scientists have many opportunities to work beyond the classroom. Mr. Bryan, for example, routinely takes students on fossil digs. In a 1996 dig near Selma, Ala., a group of students discovered a nearly complete skull of a new species of a mosasaur, a deep-sea predator from the dinosaur age. For his part, Mr. Gorton takes groups of students to Costa Rica every year as part of a class in tropical biology. Hands-on learning requires capable hands, and community-college students are often up to the task. To be sure, some of them are aimless and lazy, just like a fair share of university students. But most students are truly there to learn, Mr. Bryan says. Classes are full of moms who put off college for a few years to raise their kids, professionals of all types who want a new line of work, and more than a few college graduates. Forty percent of the students in Mr. Gorton's molecular biotechnology class already have bachelor's degrees. Security and Sacrifice Working with dedicated students has its rewards, but, at some point, job seekers have to wonder about more tangible benefits. As reported in the 1999 National Study of Postsecondary Faculty, the average annual salary for full-time science instructors at community colleges is about $47,000 to $48,000. According to Mr. Boggs, new faculty members can expect to start somewhere in the $30s, and experienced instructors can easily reach the $60s and beyond. The salary comes with security. Community colleges usually don't like to use the word "tenure," but faculty members who perform well in the classroom for several years rarely have to worry about their jobs, Mr. Bryan says. "This whole school has very low turnover, which tells you a lot," he says. "I've got just about zero stress. There's nobody breathing down my neck." The easy life has its sacrifices. Many -- but not all -- community-college scientists lose touch with the science community at large. It takes a special drive to stay active on the national scene, but it can be done. Mr. Gorton, for example, is the past president of the Michigan branch of the American Society for Microbiology, and Mr. Boggs, a former community-college chemistry instructor, has served on several National Science Foundation panels. Every once in a while, Mr. Bryan mourns his lost opportunities. He has ideas for research projects that he'll never have a chance to start. He has piles of fossils that he hasn't had time to study. He has data just waiting to be crunched. But first things first. "I've got papers to grade tonight," he says. A professor of the year has to have his priorities. |
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