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Watching My Wake

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By Claire Miller

Acquaintances who haven't spoken with me recently approach the topic gingerly. "So," they ask in an offhand manner, "what are you doing next year?"

I can tell they're bracing themselves for bad news. This year was only my second time on the academic job market, and I am just now wrapping up my Ph.D. in religious studies. Most people in my position are lucky to get a postdoc or adjunct work.

To my great relief, I am able to respond to the questioners with a fervor that puts their doubts to rest: "I got a job! A real, tenure-track job, at a liberal-arts college, teaching exactly what I am trained to do!"

I still can hardly believe it. In the last few months, I've received a job offer, accepted it, defended my dissertation, and turned it in. Graduation is just around the corner, and I will soon be an assistant professor. It's a time of transition that has affected my life in many ways. But, I'm finding, it hasn't affected just my life.

As Kathryn Hume writes in her book, Surviving Your Academic Job Hunt, academe (and indeed, all of life) is a vast system of inputs and outputs, a web of interconnections. "You are no longer a private individual," she writes. "Your professional actions all have network-touching implications."

Whatever happens to me on the market affects other academics, and whatever happens to them affects me. I'm learning that those of us who hope to stay within this system for a while, speedboating our way to a better career, would do well to be aware of the wake we create.

When I told my adviser about my job offer, I had a flashback to my first meeting with him as a prospective student, when he touted his graduate program by listing the colleges where recent Ph.D.'s had landed tenure-track jobs. I joined his program partly because I hoped that I, too, would land in a solid position. Now I will be one of the "success stories" he lists to prospective students. My success reflects well on my adviser, which, in turn, may prompt other students to follow a similar path of study.

Mine is not the only new name on my adviser's list. Another success story from my program -- a student in the same subfield as I am and two years ahead -- landed a prestigious Ivy League position. His dissertation was fast-tracked into a book, published by a major press. He has certainly affected me: Sometimes his achievement overshadows mine, and I envy his brilliance; fortunately, he's been generous in opening doors for me in our field. His rising tide raises my boat, too.

I've watched several other graduate students in my cohort and learned from their experiences. I'm sure other students are watching me with similar interest. I've seen one fellow graduate land a tenure-track job at a seminary, only to see the institution fold; she's currently on a book-writing fellowship, looking for another position.

I've seen another member of our group move from campus to campus in one-year positions, unable to advance in the field because she teaches heavy loads wherever she goes and has no chance to publish anything. Two of my fellow graduates this year are taking postdoc positions, though such appointments are relatively rare in my field. Both of them are ambivalent about a future in academe, and seem to be using the postdoc as a chance to reassess.

From their experiences, I have learned to look carefully into the financial stability of the institutions I have applied to, and to be wary of those that seem unstable. I've learned to get an early start on publishing in case I ended up in a temporary job with a heavy teaching load. And I've learned to be certain of my reasons for pursuing an academic career.

That was my cohort of graduate students. Now I will be entering a new cohort and a new network. My new employer has hired several new faculty members in a variety of departments, and I've already met and corresponded with some of the other new hires. We'll spend time with each other at an August orientation before classes begin and will cross paths in meetings and at the library.

The articles and other publications I'm working on now will, I realize, be published with a new institutional affiliation next to my name. That may affect how others view my work, and my work may influence how people view my college. My future department is now part of my network, too: I will be a junior faculty member in a subfield already containing one senior faculty member. I'm sure we will share syllabi and students. I won't have an adviser in the same way as I did in graduate school, but I know that senior faculty members will be informal mentors for me and other new hires.

Some people were negatively affected by my job offer. Among the applicants for my position were two friends, one of whom is still looking for a job for next year, in her fourth time on the market. If I were in her shoes, I would resent me -- someone who had, inexplicably and luckily, "made it." Fortunately for our friendship, she doesn't fault me for my good fortune.

The tenure-track position I've been offered is a new one, intended to replace the teaching that had been done by a few adjuncts. Both applied for the permanent slot; my getting it denied them the opportunity to escape from the often dead-end track of adjunct employment. Of course, it also diverted me from entering that track. (I assuage my survivor's guilt by reminding myself that last year, the job I wanted most was offered to an adjunct in that particular department.)

Perhaps the person most deeply affected by my job offer, besides myself, is my partner, Nina. She knew from the start of our relationship that to get a tenure-track job, I would have to move away. I still feel vaguely guilty for doing so, however, because the new job is in a location that is far from ideal for her life.

Nina likes vibrant arts, culture, and dining; she likes the beach; and she likes being near her family. The job I took -- the only one I was offered -- is located in a small town, far from a coast and far from her family. Her job won't allow her to join me immediately, but after I've been at my new position for about a year, she's planning to move, too, leaving behind a place she's always known. I'm deeply touched by her willingness to do that.

The college, thankfully, is welcoming and helpful -- more than I would have expected for a church-related institution. It does offer benefits to same-sex partners (though it does not advertise that fact, so I hadn't counted it as a good prospect on first glance -- it pays to ask!).

During the interview process, I asked to meet with lesbian and gay faculty members and was connected with a few very nice men, who were delighted to welcome another queer person into their midst. Speaking with them has eased some of my worries about the college and the location. I will be, it seems, the first lesbian faculty member at the college (or at least, the first who's mentioned it to anyone). In that sense, my getting this job will affect my students and colleagues by adding to the diversity of the campus.

As for me, the effects of getting a job have been mostly positive (employment, a salary) and some negative (separation from my sweetheart, fears about my capacity to do the work). It's time to trade in my backpack for a briefcase and see myself the way that others will see me: as a professional.

So I'm watching my wake -- spreading the positive news when it's welcome, not rubbing it in when it isn't, and being sensitive to those who must adjust to make way for my new life and my new identity.