First Person

Post Tenure Denial

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By Maria Annunziata

This was to be a triumphant article about my ascension from the ashes of tenure denial. A phoenix rising, I would emerge from the ruins of that career debacle and ensconce myself in a new position that would telegraph my success to my detractors at my former institution.

Unfortunately, I'm not in a position to gloat yet. My initial revenge fantasies soon gave way to months of soul searching for which I found myself completely unprepared.

In the summer of 2004, I wrote about my tenure denial in a column called "Dead Professor Walking." Family obligations kept me from leaving the university until my contract ended in May of 2005. So day after day, week after week, like Sisyphus rolling his rock up the hill, I'd return to the scene of the crime.

Throughout that last year, I felt physically, emotionally, and socially shunned by the members of my department. I was treated as an untouchable and subtly blamed for inviting whatever contagion had caused my academic demise.

I've always heard that you get back up on the horse that threw you. My academic ride from kindergarten through the moment just prior to coming up for tenure was a relatively smooth one. But I didn't see the gate coming, and when that horse threw me, I was knocked cold. I was injured, dazed, and reluctant to get back up on that ride. So, after leaving the campus last spring for good, I took a year off to regroup and examine whether I had chosen the right career.

How could I afford that? Well, I had a cushion in the bank, an understanding spouse, a little contractual work on the side, and the realization that I really needed to take a self-financed sabbatical.

I'd like to be able to say that I had a blinding career epiphany, a moment when all thoughts converged into one powerful, life-changing "aha" moment. Instead, my realizations came as little insights, barely perceptible blips on the radar screen, but their additive effect helped me to understand myself and my career.

I've toyed a bit with the idea of a career outside academe. I did some ghostwriting for an elected official, took a few paid writing assignments, and did some paid consulting work.

Colleague after colleague told me I wouldn't be able to leave students, that I was leaving my life's calling. They were right. I miss working with students. I miss their inquisitiveness, I miss their joie de vivre, and I even miss their asking me if such and such a topic will be on the test.

I've heard from many readers who saw my first column. Those individuals, with the notable exception of one correspondent, were kind and helpful. One wrote of her failure to achieve tenure on three separate occasions. One offered a job. One recommended a good lawyer. For those total strangers, I am grateful beyond all measure.

I've also communicated with colleagues from all over the United States. Dozens have told me of their tenure trials. I have been surprised to learn how many successful and respected professionals, particularly strong and intelligent women, have been denied tenure at some juncture in their careers. Some responded by taking another academic position, some sued, some slipped away from academe. They told me, without exception, that being denied tenure had changed them in some very subtle but meaningful ways.

It's been a painful journey, but I think the experience has provided a powerful lesson for me. I evaluated my professional life and determined that I didn't make the wrong career choice. I was, and am, displeased with so much about academe. Still, if I left, I would miss working with students, engaging in research, and being part of the educational system.

The question now: How can I get back in?

Last year I sent out a few applications to teaching jobs that I felt were solid prospects. I was not even granted an interview. The mark of tenure denial felt like a scarlet letter.

Since then, I have been working to make myself more interesting to academic employers. I have restructured my CV and looked for places that needed shoring up. I have published papers, I have submitted and revised papers, and I am writing still more papers. My work has been presented at every major conference since I learned about the tenure decision.

So much of employment has to do with who you know and how you are perceived. I've tried to lay a foundation for future job applications by increasing the visibility of my work within my field. I've also heightened my visibility by taking on major roles in my professional societies.

It is a great cruelty that when you feel most like hiding under a rock, you must, in fact, sun yourself on that stone. That strategy seems to have worked. People are beginning to come to me and ask me to apply for jobs at their institutions.

I also have realized that the face of higher education is changing. In the spirit of retooling and CV enhancement, I'm doing a little online teaching for a graduate program. It is fascinating, challenging, and rewarding. I believe that potential employers will be pleased with that skill.

I've come to think of my tenure denial as a midcourse adjustment -- one I didn't see coming and one I wouldn't wish on anyone. Nevertheless, near-death experiences often leave the survivor with new reserves for fighting adversity and a renewed interest in life.

I've become more thankful than ever about choices I've made in my personal life and pleased that I have never let a career or job define me. I've come to realize that it isn't about the fall but how you pick yourself up from it. So maybe this phoenix isn't rising in a blinding display of pyrotechnics, but it's rising.