First Person

My Life on the D List

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By Rex Sayers

This is the story of my happy life on the academic "D list," and why I have decided to leave it all behind.

I have made a career of being the big fish in a small pond. Instead of attending the elite university where I was accepted as an undergraduate, I went to a good, but small and unknown liberal-arts college. I did the same thing with my master's program, and when it came time to apply for doctoral programs in religious studies, I hardly even bothered with the elite research universities. It was second tier for me all the way.

I found a position right out of my doctoral program, again at a very small college. That I found a full-time job at all was great, but there were some compromises. I am an associate professor, but the "associate" in my title refers to my place on the pay scale; the college doesn't offer tenure. The administration prefers that we work under annual contracts. I do have an insurance and retirement package but in terms of job security, after six years of service, I am essentially an adjunct.

Some would argue that my college would have to struggle to attain even D-list status. A case in point: The college is nearly 100 years old and resides in a Midwestern city of about 100,000 people, but it is virtually unknown even among the residents. When I tell people in town where I teach, I usually reference a nearby farm because it's better known.

It has not been a bad life, and to be fair to myself, I made each of those decisions for good reasons. I followed the money, either in the form of full-tuition scholarships (as an undergraduate and master's student) or generous assistantships (as a doctoral student), and I made it through 14 years of higher education without any loans.

Whether that was the best course to follow professionally, it has certainly made for a pleasant journey. Not only have I not had the stress of accumulating debt or finding a job, but I have enjoyed being, well, the big fish. While I've been taught by some first-class scholars and had some very talented colleagues, I have had much less competition, which has made it much easier to stand out.

And believe me, being at the top of any list is a lot of fun, not only because of the attention but because it's just so comfortable. I know precisely how much (or how little) I have to do to maintain my big-fish status.

As I reread this, I realize that I may be sounding smug or self-important, and I want to be clear about my motivations, both in my own mind and for this essay. The issue here is not simply my desire for the money and prestige that moving up the academic hierarchy would bring, though I will admit to feeling attracted by those things.

Nor do I think that there is something inherently wrong with working at this level. The seductive power of the D list lies, in part, in the fact that the experience is so fulfilling. In my current position, I will have every student in at least five different courses if they go through the whole baccalaureate program. That gives me a remarkable opportunity to shape the way students think, both academically and about themselves as persons.

The teaching load is demanding, but it also gives me a lot of freedom to explore new ideas and stretch myself. My best students are intellectually curious without feeling the pressure of getting perfect grades or high-paying jobs. (A 4.0 at a D-list college does not count for that much.) They are often willing to explore off-the-wall ideas just for the fun of it.

So what's the problem?

In a word, "complacency." Somewhere along the way I actually became a decent scholar, and then, much to my dismay, I fell in love with doing scholarship.

That continues to surprise me, because nothing in the D list rewards scholarly achievement. I am appreciated at my current job because I am good in the classroom and I am willing to teach a high load. That I give an occasional scholarly paper or publish an article is regarded as pretty cool and goes a long way toward establishing me as a big fish, but it has nothing to do with my job performance.

That has its own level of seduction because I can hang around the fringes of big-time scholarship and still be regarded, from a D-list perspective, as a good scholar. In fact, it is probably that experience that has lured me into thinking I am better than I really am, that I am as good as the attention I sometimes get from my fellow D listers might indicate.

There is now an uncomfortable space between how I perceive myself and how others perceive me, and living within that space is becoming less and less tenable. In the dark recesses of my mind, I am nagged by the fear that my life on the D list has been the net result of a series of compromises that have kept me from what I truly love and am potentially very good at.

I do not want to wake up in a few years, find myself permanently ensconced here, and realize that I have settled for being less of a teacher or scholar than I could have been.

I first came to that realization last year. I was browsing through job ads and saw a position at an A-list institution that I would have been perfect for. The teaching was interdisciplinary in ways that closely correspond to what I am doing now, and the opportunities for research and collaboration seemed, on paper at least, perfect.

So I decided to apply and promptly sent my mentor an e-mail message asking for a recommendation. He replied somewhat less promptly with a sharply worded message that said, in effect, "no chance" -- either for me getting the job or for him writing such a foolhardy recommendation. (Being a first-rate scholar, he used a considerable number of words making that point, but that's the gist.)

He was absolutely right. I may think I am a good enough scholar/teacher/colleague to work anywhere, but I cannot prove it. There is nothing on my CV that says, "good scholar." In fact, when I look at it objectively, there is nothing on my CV that says anything more than D list.

I have spent the last year trying to rectify that as much as possible, primarily through publications. And now I am going back on the market in hopes of eventually working my way up to an A-list job. I think of that effort as a "job search for moral improvement." Which sounds grotesque, I realize, especially given the realities of the job market, but I cannot see it any other way.

When I see a position like the one from last year, I need to ask what it would take to get that kind of job, and what I have to do to attain that level of accomplishment. And the best way to do that is to apply for those kinds of jobs, so on the market I go.

By any measure I will be a long shot for most jobs, and if I do get any offers, I will almost certainly have to settle for a C- or B-list position to begin with.

But the job isn't really the point. What matters is the effort to move forward, get better, and I hope, in the process, eliminate some of that space between perception and reality.