Ms. Mentor

The Tenure Gloat

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Question (from "Cora"): I'm up for tenure. I've published a reasonable amount, am a good teacher, and have created a new interdisciplinary program. My faculty colleagues assure me that they're for me -- except the one ("Nemesis") who has not talked to me in two years, of course. But I'm confident that my department will vote yes, after which my case goes to the college committee, then the deans, the provost, the chancellor, and finally the regents. All this will take eight months, but I'm feeling good, and waiting for the regents will be anticlimactic. So, when should I celebrate? When should the drinking start?

Question (from "Wilbur"): This is my up-or-out tenure year. I'm a stellar teacher, do more than my share of service, and have a reasonable research record -- but my department committee voted to deny both tenure and promotion. My chair, in an unprecedented move, wrote a strong dissent and recommended both tenure and promotion. The college committee agreed unanimously, and that committee head assured me things are OK, even though "someone on your department committee must have been out to get you." My question: How much overt gloating is permissible? Obviously, my department committee looks foolish, when every other person involved has supported my tenure. How much can I rub their (committee members') noses in it? Or should I just stay all friendly and nice, bide my time, and wait for a chance to get even?

Answer: Ms. Mentor will admit that her favorite National Football League performances are the stars' victory dances. She also likes knowing that most of them perfected their acts while they were college students, for flamboyance is generally a no-no in academe. Only boors -- and faculty superstars -- can showboat, swagger, shimmy shake, and gloat.

When their good news comes, Cora and Wilbur need to smile humbly and thank everyone -- everyone -- for their support. If they gloat, they must do so secretly. But their questions are premature. Right now, Ms. Mentor wonders if Cora and Wilbur will get tenure. Danger signals abound.

Cora's Nemesis is one, and Ms. Mentor cannot fathom why a senior professor would take to shunning a youngster. Nevertheless, Nemesis is presumably entrenched, an incumbent in the community that Cora would like to join. If theirs is a male-dominated field, Nemesis and his long-term buddies may resent Cora as an interloper and vote against her, no matter her academic record -- unless they like her socially (she doesn't say). "Collegiality" (whether they like you) often outweighs the three official criteria -- teaching, research, and service -- when academics decide on tenure.

Her department colleagues are really asking themselves: Do we want to see Cora in the mail room for the next 30 years?

Should Cora celebrate now, halfway through the tenure process? Ms. Mentor will permit her to have a demure glass of wine, but cautions against premature exultation.

Instead, Cora should try to mend fences with Nemesis. She should stop by his office, bring him a news clip, offer him candy, ask his advice -- anything to recharge the conversational muscles. He may be more shy than snarly, and Cora needs to win him over if she's to have a pleasant future. If and when she does have a tenure celebration party, she wants no boycotts and no mourners.

Meanwhile, poor Wilbur did not even know there was an enemy on his committee. And it seems that Wilbur himself has a bit of a hostile streak. Once it's all over, he wants to gloat. He wants revenge.

But academe is not the NFL, where you can be rich and famous right away, even if everyone hates you. Academic careers last much longer, and youthful brashness is rarely forgiven. Wilbur must remain silent until the regents deliver their verdict, at which point he should behave like a good winner, shaking everyone's hand and vowing to work harmoniously with all. (As President Lyndon B. Johnson was fond of saying, "Don't spit in the soup. We all have to eat.")

Moreover, Ms. Mentor exhorts Wilbur not to plot revenge, or even harbor grudges. That will steal time and energy from his teaching and his intellectual work; it will eat him up inside. Instead, he should sail through the halls, proclaiming his longterm research plans. Gracious condescension is far more powerful than back- or front stabbing -- because it makes your opponent feel guilty.

Ms. Mentor, who has seen it all, knows that if you habitually gloat, brag, or taunt "I told you so," you will make people shun you, even if you've managed to get tenure. Your colleagues can still warn students against you, undermine your research, crowd your lab space, refuse to share resources, deny you travel money, ignore what you say in department meetings, abolish courses in your specialty, and snicker when you walk by. A civilized veneer of camaraderie and bonhomie will make your path to full professorship smoother and sweeter-smelling.

Besides, many colleges now have post-tenure review. You could, in effect, be recalled, and replaced by someone younger and more personable. After all, it's already happened to the governor of California.

Question: New on the job and lonesome, I want to get a dog and take him to campus with me -- but I'm told I can't, because of potential lawsuits over bitings and droppings. Do you have another prescription for my midwinter melancholy?

Answer: Meow.

SAGE READERS: Despite her perfect wisdom, Ms. Mentor sometimes nods. In last month's column she misplaced the Bohemian Grove, site of secret and salacious doings by powerful pols. It is hidden among the Northern California redwoods. Or so she's been told by credible sources.

After last month's column, Ms. Mentor was also informed that there are at least 50 transgendered professors in North American universities. Over a dozen people praised the contributions of Joan (formerly Jonathan) Roughgarden, a Stanford biologist. There is also one brave individual who's gone from "Gerald" to "Geraldine" to "Gerald" again.

Ms. Mentor continues to collect material for her long-awaited column on lesbians, gay men, and coming out in academe. She also encourages worried correspondents to use screen names and Yahoo or Hotmail accounts if they would rather not tell Ms. Mentor who they are. She respects their privacy.

For those asking, "When should I have a baby?", Ms. Mentor recommends recent research by Mary Ann Mason As Mason shows, parenting can derail a woman's career but enhance a man's.

As always, Ms. Mentor welcomes rants, gossip, leaked documents, and schemes, and anonymity is guaranteed. She rarely answers letters personally, but often incorporates several into her column. Interested souls are also directed to her tome, Ms. Mentor's Impeccable Advice for Women in Academia, and to her archive of previous columns. Great wisdom resides therein.