Ms. Mentor

Academic Fledglings

Article tools

Printer friendly	E-mail article	Subscribe	Order reprints
	Discuss any Chronicle article in our forums
Latest Headlines P&T Confidential Facebooking Your Way Out of Tenure How can you minimize the possibility that your blog or Facebook page might hurt your career? On Course Nudging Higher Education A professor looks for small changes he can make to move students toward making smarter choices. Career News No Jacket Required A scholar's study of her own students suggests that while a professor's clothing might affect initial impressions, it doesn't make a difference in the long run. Career News Listserv 2.0 Electronic mailing lists, once hailed as the savior of scholarly communication, must now either change or fade away. Resource Salaries: Faculty | Administrative Presidential pay: Private | Public Financial resources: Salary and cost-of-living calculators Career resources: Academic | Nonacademic Library: Previous articles by topic | by date | by column Career Talk, Ms. Mentor, and more... Landing your first job On the tenure track Mid-career and on Administrative careers Nonacademic careers for Ph.D.'s Talk about your career Blogs

Question: (from "Albert," an almost-Ph.D.): Four months after I applied for a position, during which "Omega U." fiddled and waffled over the job description, I got a form letter: "This search has been terminated for administrative reasons. Thanks for your interest." I know I was a top applicant, and I am astonished by this callous response. Don't search committees care how much effort it takes to apply?

Question: (from "Bullet," a recent Ph.D.): I'm in a temporary, one-year job where I was unlucky enough to receive bad teaching evaluations my first semester. Now my chair is piling on punitive measures -- making me do lesson plans every week, turn in lists of student projects, keep a teaching portfolio, etc. etc. I filed a grievance. Should he be allowed to do this to me?

Question: (from "Callie," a graduate student): I just can't get motivated. Even with extensions on deadlines, I still find myself pulling all-nighters. I've had the flu five times, and I'm sick, sick, sick of always being late for every appointment, class, and responsibility. How can I get my committee chair to set reasonable goals for me, such as weekly meetings and a specified number of pages of writing each time we meet?

Question: (from "Dorcas," a recent Ph. D.): At the last minute, I had to add an untenured assistant professor, "Dr. Hindrance," to my doctoral committee. He nitpicked me half to death, and at my defense, he put on an amazing show of boorishness -- taking up almost the entire time arguing with the Hugely Respected International Scholars on the committee. When he came up for tenure recently, the department asked me to write a letter, which I did -- saying, honestly, that I thought he didn't deserve it. Now I'm sure he can tell who wrote the letter, and though I'm not seeking recommendations from him -- did I commit a major faux pas or minor career suicide?

Answer: Only one of Ms. Mentor's four correspondents has a valid complaint. Which one, dear reader, do you choose?

While you are thinking, let Ms. Mentor muse a bit about how fraught, fraught are the relations between older and younger academics. If you are new, the entrenched professors often seem distant, tired, and -- of course -- intellectually dreary. ("Only the younger faculty members have any ideas at all," Francis declared after his first department meeting -- and later wondered why few senior profs were interested in mentoring him or listening to his insights.)

If you're a fledgling, your older colleagues may also remind you of your parents. You may hope for a nurturing mom or mentor. You may fear your department head as a wrathful patriarchal dad. You may have flirtatious uncles and mean aunts.

Further, you're convinced that the tenured faculty members are privy to secret knowledge that they are willfully keeping from you. You're sure they know everything that goes on in your classes, especially if your students are saying mean things about you. If the senior professors don't say hello in the halls, you think your goose is cooked.

You know that those sly old foxes, resting securely in their own tenures, are forever cooking up ways to baffle and befuddle you.

But you are wrong, and Ms. Mentor will enlighten you. The entrenched professors, for the most part, aren't thinking about you at all. They want their professional and personal lives to run smoothly and they'd like to help you -- but most of all, they don't want you to be a pothole on their highway of life.

They want you to be scholarly, smart, responsible, friendly, brave, clean, and reverent. You needn't quail, shuffle, or curtsy -- but also, do not annoy your elders with rude or out-of-touch behavior.

Albert, for instance, wants to be cherished (don't we all?) but he thinks himself worthy of an extraordinary amount of attention. Perhaps he does not know that there may be several hundred applicants for each job. Perhaps he thinks hiring committee members -- who also teach, write, and have lives -- ought to take the time to write him a personal letter. But in truth, professionals must perform the tasks that are most urgent, and the universe -- perhaps foolishly -- does not revolve around Albert.

Bullet, meanwhile, seems to confuse guidance with punishment -- as many an unruly child does. Asking for lesson plans is not punitive. It is, in fact, a keenly tactful way of saying, "You are screwing up. I could fire your ass, but this way you'll learn what you need to know." The chair is trying to work together with Bullet -- who then turns around and files a grievance. This is gross ingratitude, and professional suicide.

Callie is crying for someone to take her in hand. But Ms. Mentor exhorts her to blow her nose, dry her eyes, sit up straight, and take responsibility for her life. For Callie, and for anyone else who clearly does not want to do the work, there is an easy sign to look for: the one that says 'Exit'. If you hate what you are doing, do not expect others to fix it. Quit.

But Ms. Mentor's last correspondent, Dorcas, has indeed been betrayed by the academic generation ahead of hers. Ms. Mentor is not surprised by the behavior of Dr. Hindrance: Many fledglings do try to earn their wings by attacking the big owls. When they do it in public with long, self-promotional questions, it is known as peacocking.

The antler-crushing battles between older and younger men are, of course, simply a manifestation of the great underlying struggle of the patriarchal world: "Whose Is Bigger?" The struggle is Oedipal and lethal, and usually the younger man loses.

Still, the losing Dr. Hindrance should not have been allowed to drag Dorcas down with him. The department should never have asked a graduate student to write a tenure recommendation. No vulnerable ex-student should ever be exposed to the fury of powerful profs.

Of course Dr. Hindrance will figure out who wrote the letter (confidentiality in the rumor-mongering world of academia is a myth). And of course, he will seek vengeance, whether he's tenured or not. No field is so large that vicious rumors cannot be spread -- about a former student's incompetence, venality, disloyalty, morals, or all of the above.

Did Dorcas commit a major faux pas? Yes, she did, and she could have politely excused herself on the grounds that she did not know Dr. Hindrance well, or she felt awkward about putting her thoughts on paper while she is still a fledgling academic herself ... or if those failed, she could have claimed she had put a letter in the mail, but it somehow never arrived. But her elders should never, ever have asked Dorcas for a letter. They were wrong, wrong, wrong.

Finally, Ms. Mentor confesses that even she has occasionally been the target of wrath from younger academic generations. She has been called a "dupe of capitalist patriarchy," and one whippersnapper even had the gall to post on amazon.com a characterization of Ms. Mentor as "clueless." Ms. Mentor, in her infinite wisdom, sighs.

But Ms. Mentor also entreats younger and newer academics to eschew impetuous behavior. They should assiduously play that old manipulative childhood game: "How would you feel if ...?" What if ... you got demanding phone calls and e-mails from every disappointed job candidate, or ... you were trying to mentor a new faculty member who thought you were a monster, or ... you were being whined at by a student who really just needed to get out of school?

The young do have the right to expect protection, kindness, advice, and reasonable nurturing from the old. But neither generation is the other's keeper or scourge. We all occupy the same halls, teach the same students, and use the same libraries, labs, and bathrooms. We even inhale the same air -- and we don't want it poisoned with paranoia, or ruined with rancor.

After all, we're all supposed to be smart.

Question: I was hired to teach "Theoretical Gimcracks," but my Good Little College is scheduling me to teach Applied Gimcracks exclusively. Since most of the students want to learn Applied Gimcracks, that will be my job, and my bosses won't let me teach my specialty. Besides applying for other jobs, what options do I have?

Answer: None.

Sage Readers: Ms. Mentor is pleased to note that her recent scoldings have caused a great improvement in e-pistles sent to her. She rarely gets boring letters, and often hears from people with dramatic but generalizable problems. Ms. Mentor continues to welcome ventilations and fulminations, and she always appreciates spicy gossip. Even puerile objections are read with care before they are appropriately filed.

Ms. Mentor can rarely give private answers to individual queries, but she does strive to incorporate virtually all of her mail into eventual columns. And although she knows all, she cannot render opinions that might be used in a court of law, as requested by one recent correspondent.

Nor can Ms. Mentor race to answer urgent questions. If you have the most important meeting of your life in an hour, Ms. Mentor decrees that you must consult your partner, therapist, real-life mentor, pet, astrologer, or other expert of your choice. Ms. Mentor cannot be rushed, bullied, or bribed.