Counting progress with semesters

Summer is a precarious time for scholars, young and old. During spring doldrums, when everything is most chaotic, summer becomes a hopeful respite. We long for more time to finish a few articles, grants, and all the other tasks we have delayed. It is a “tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther” type of belief. 

Unfortunately, grand plans sometimes (but not always) turn into meager outcomes. Summer enters and leaves quickly. Lingering tasks from the spring gobble up the first few weeks. Planning for the fall semester takes the last few weeks. A vacation here and long weekend there, all of the sudden, summer becomes much shorter than it seemed when we where kids. 

How was my summer, you wonder? I was pretty productive, somewhere between writing the next great American novel and playing video games for three straight months. If I adjusted for the lack of suitable air conditioning, I did even better. I’m most proud of starting a bridge program for teenagers in South Brooklyn. I partnered with a great community-based organization and got to interact with a lot of wonderful people. Hopefully, I will be able to obtain funding to expand the project. I wrote a few conference proposals, and reviewed (a lot) more. I worked on a few papers, made significant progress on a book, and finished some miscellaneous tasks. I’m most happy about honeymooning in Ireland. I also managed to catch my breath after a series of transitions and a hectic year. As I look back, I’m amazed at how much I’ve learned from semester to semester.  

So, now it’s year two as a professor. What’s the fall forecast? I’m going to continue to blog about my experiences. I’m learning and teaching and researching and writing and conferencing and networking. I’m mentoring high school seniors. I’m submitting a few grants. And, I’m wondering who the next mayor of New York will be and how that person can improve education for students across the city, particularly in low-income neighborhoods. 

Stay tuned.

The digital bookshelf of an assistant professor

Christopher Marlowe’s Doctor Faustus is one of my favorite plays. At the beginning of the story, Faustus, surrounded by countless dusty tomes, declares that he has read everything about everything. I’m not sure what it says about me (especially given Faustus’ fate), but I frequently think about that scene. I read a lot. I eagerly anticipate new books. When the release date of Patrick Sharkey’s book about neighborhoods and racial equality was delayed, I was disappointed. I like learning, and I worry about having academic blind spots.

I believe reading is critical to the intellectual growth of a professor and his or her ability to influence meaningful change. Below are three books I am either reading or rereading.

The End of Exceptionalism in American Education: The Changing Politics of School Reform, Jeffrey Henig

Henig identifies the three key aspects of education policy in the United States—centralization versus decentralization, public versus private, and single- versus general-purpose governance. He argues that changes from single- to general-purpose governance—although least understood—are critical to the future educational landscape. Examples of single- versus general-purpose are the U.S. Department of Education versus the president, the state department of education versus governors, legislatures, and courts, and school districts versus mayors and councils. Henig provides a thoughtful argument and compelling implications.

Spreadable Media: Creating Value and Meaning in a Networked Culture, Henry Jenkins, Sam Ford, and Joshua Green

In many ways a sequel to Convergence Culture, Jenkins and colleagues clarify former arguments, challenge increasingly popular theories, and advance new perspectives about networked media. There is a glut of new writing about media that varies widely in terms of scholarly rigor. Start with this book.

Ghostly Matters: Haunting and the Sociological Imagination, Avery Gordon

The book is about ghosts that occupy our present. Gordon writes, “Haunting is a constituent element of modern social life. It is neither premodern superstition nor individual psychosis; it is a generalizable social phenomenon of great import. To study social life one must confront the ghostly aspects of it. This confrontation requires (or produces) a fundamental change in the way we know and make knowledge, in our mode of production.” I first skimmed the book a few years ago. I have thought about it since. Ghostly Matters addresses the complexities (and impossibilities) of accurately portraying the lives of individuals in research. The argument is provocative and memorable. And, the prose is just as haunting as the content.

As a bonus, I am never far from some sort of creative writing, mostly poetry. I try to read a few poems here and there. I recommend Eduardo Corral’s Slow Lightning and Nikky Finney’s Head Off & Split. Both are beautiful, challenging, timely, and rewarding.

Have Ph.D. will travel. (Part 2)

Because newly minted Ph.D. graduates far outweigh the number of tenure-track positions [read about the sobering statistics here], many will have to travel if they want a job in academia. 

From my own experiences with friends and colleagues, graduate students deal with the possibility in different ways. Some have families and friends and roots. Travel is not an option. Others reluctantly and gradually accept the fact that they may have to relocate. The promise of returning often comforts them. Another group embraces the opportunity. Moving is going back home (or at least closer to home). Or, moving means they have achieved another career goal.

At some point or another, I think I fit into each of the categories. When I first arrived to Los Angeles, I couldn’t wait to leave. After a few years in Silver Lake, I had a dog, a girlfriend, friends, a favorite gym, a favorite record store, and any number of delicious taco stands equidistant from my apartment. Just like the other Randy, I would sing “I love LA” at Dodgers’ games. Then, after four years, I was also ready for the next step and felt honored and excited when I was offered a job at St. John’s and provided the opportunity to move to New York.

In August, my wife, dog, and I moved. Moving from one coast to another includes a lot of implications, some obvious, others not so obvious. 

Perhaps, unsurprisingly, the biggest adjustment for my wife and I has been the housing situation. New York is unlike anywhere I’ve lived before. I remember an economics professor discussing non-price rationing. He used New York as an example. Because the demand outweighs the supply, people get apartments through non-price methods like friends. That’s true. What else is true? People get apartments through gigantic broker’s fees. If you want a non-fee apartment, your options shrink drastically. My wife and I found a cute loft in Greenpoint, a hip area in Brooklyn. At the time, after walking around NYC for three straight days in mid-August and looking at teeny tiny apartments with glaring defects (a.k.a. roaches), we thought we found a gem. For the first two months, there wasn’t a week where one of us didn’t have to call (and then wait for) the super for some sort of problem. Long story short, if you are moving to a different city, prepare for a break-in period. 

In terms of research, new jobs and new cities pose all sorts of opportunities. Finding the opportunities, however, requires deliberate action. If you live in a place long enough, you develop connections and local knowledge. Reflect on past experiences and use them to inform your next steps in a new town or city. For instance, who are the experts in your area of research? Are there any major research centers? Who are the major foundations? Who are the major non-profits or community-based organizations?

In terms of your new job, expect that most of your colleagues want you to succeed. Plan lunches with senior faculty members. Ask questions. Universities also have new faculty events. Go to them. Network with new professors in different disciplines. 

Lastly, you don’t have to wait until the fall to begin getting to know your school. If you sign a contract now, have lunch or coffee at AERA with a faculty member. Ask about the local school system. What are the challenges and opportunities? Also, search for future colleagues on Twitter. Start to get a sense of the culture of your school. Moving and changing jobs is a learning process. Start early.

Imagining a more action-oriented tenure process

On the first day of school, two students started fighting. One student tried to escape. The two ran from the first to third floor. A crowd followed them. Just before the fight stopped, a security guard’s head slammed through a window in my classroom’s door. She never returned to school. A few days later, someone fixed the window.

From August until December, school safety worsened. Gang and neighborhood beefs played out in the classrooms and hallways. Community officers found out about a group driving from this or that area, and administrators and teachers locked down the school. In December, dozens of police in riot-gear walked the halls. A fight began. After the police used pepper spray, the principal yelled over the intercom, “I will not put my teachers in danger!” Just before winter break, she resigned. 

My first four months as a teacher have informed everything I have done since then. My daily experiences were maddening, schizophrenic, and also rewarding. In such a hectic context, I interacted with hundreds of amazing and bright students. I tried (and often failed) to be a good teacher. But, my students always supported me.

As a critical scholar, I am well aware of the importance of framing narratives. I worry that some will read the above story and think, “Oh, here we go again.” Or, even worse, others will read it and think, “Just another inner-city school.” I usually try to avoid telling sensational stories; however, my experiences as a teacher—and how I make sense of them—frame who I am as an academic. 

As a first-year assistant professor, I have spent more time than ever before thinking about the tenure process. I wonder how being part of academia fits into the overall project of increasing social justice and educational opportunities for underserved teenagers.

In The Art of Fieldwork, Harry Wolcott argues, “Best intentions notwithstanding, I think we must concede that the person who stands to gain the most from any research is the researcher” (p. 136). He talks at length about the benefits that accrue to a researcher in relation to his or her participants. A researcher receives a salary, benefits, prestige, job security, etc. Meanwhile, participants receive a $5 Starbucks gift card and / or the knowledge that they are benefiting humankind. 

I disagree with Wolcott. Research can most certainly be self-serving, but not necessarily so. Peer-reviewed journal articles need not be the only important outcome of research. However—despite the wonderful research and service by many scholars—the tenure process at many R1 universities still favors old models of basic science. In that regard, improving education and getting tenure are not always congruent goals. 

What if we imagined a new tenure process, one where tenure committees equally recognize peer-reviewed journal articles and service-based outcomes? What if academics exerted as much energy working with students, schools, and communities as preparing manuscripts?

Tips for finding a tenure-track faculty position

In July, just before my dissertation defense, I announced a new direction for my blogs, a focus on the life of an assistant professor. Since then, my wife and I—with MacDuff, our Australian Shepherd and co-navigator—drove across the country. While our stuff is not quite unpacked and our furniture not yet shipped, we made it to Brooklyn. And, as of a few days ago, I am a newly minted assistant professor at St. John’s University. 

Because the search to find a job is not always clear (or stress-free), I am writing to share my experiences. My job search began after I finished my dissertation proposal and started data collection. I set aside time at the end of each day to view postings, write cover letters, send emails, and submit applications. I kept a spreadsheet with faculty positions, links, requirements, dates, and contact information. The most postings occurred from October to January. 

To find openings, The Chronicle is a job-seekers best friend. I also subscribed to Academic Keys’ e-mails and routinely checked HigherEdJobs. Job searches begin with those websites but they certainly do not end there. Research organizations like ASHE and AERA—the Divisions, in particular—often send emails with job announcements. At the most basic level, universities and research centers advertise on their websites. Are you considering non-faculty positions? Check sites like Rand, SRI, and WestEd. Eduwonk is another good site for K-12-oriented job postings.

To apply, universities often require a cover letter, curriculum vitae, and either references or letters of reference. They may also ask for a one-page teaching philosophy, one-page statement of research interests, and/or writing samples. Before applying, you ought to have between three to five professors who have already agreed to write a letter for you. Before completing the cover letter and supplemental materials, ask colleagues for examples. Search committees receive hundreds of applications; carefully craft a cover letter that is logical, concise, and typo-free. When applying, make sure you send application materials to the correct recipient and address. It seems like an obvious statement, but information on job postings varies widely. Some search committees ask for materials to be submitted online; others require physical and digital copies; and, a few only accept physical copies.

Those are the first steps to getting a job. 

Here are a few final thoughts: First, the most important person during the job search is your advisor. From requesting letters of recommendation to preparing for a job talk, your advisor will provide invaluable guidance and feedback. Second, the supply of doctoral candidates and recent graduates exceeds the number of tenure-track faculty positions. Prepare accordingly. Apply to every opening. Apply to positions in related fields. Apply to postdocs. Accept every offer to interview—its good practice. And, create a back-up plan. Last but not least, relax. Don’t worry about the parts of the process that you have no control over; save your energy to complete the best possible dissertation.

Time management as a new professor

During my first month as a doctoral student, one accomplished professor told a story to our cohort about what happens when tenure-track professors do not receive tenure. He used the provocative phrase “gypsy professor,” defined as someone who does not get tenure and then travels aimlessly from one job to the next. For some itinerant free spirits, the idea of wandering from place to place may sound appealing; to a group of hopeful, young graduate students, it was a wake-up call to the competitive nature of academia.

From my first semester until graduation, I continued to hear about professors and graduate students who buckled (either temporarily or permanently) under the demands of the profession. At the core of most of the stories—which sometimes seemed more like urban legends, except for the fact that many were told directly by the participant—was time, or the lack thereof. 

An imaginary clock ticks above academics’ heads. For graduate students, the timer counts down to graduation day and/or the end of funding. For professors, the timer is set to tenure. For both groups, there are all sorts of deadlines in between that add tension and anxiety. 

The rules for tenure are both clear and unclear. In general, most will get tenure through publications and grants. Teaching and service are important, but not enough. When I was hired, the dean and department chair were both explicit about what they expected. There are also university documents that outline expectations. In particular, what I do from day-to-day, month-to-month, and year-to-year and how my activities are rated is not as clear. How many publications do I need? How much grant money? How much time should I spend prepping for class? And, what about all the meetings, advising, and service? 

Because of all these options, flexibility—with all of its promise—becomes many academics’ undoing. Instead of writing for 30 minutes, the professor decides to read an article. Or, after a long day of meetings and teaching, he thinks he deserves a night off. “I’ll wake up early and write,” he promises himself. 

A blogger at Inside Higher Ed just posted a series about the dangers of procrastination and perfectionism. Bill wrote about the need for discipline. The punch line to all of the articles (including this one) is that time management—which includes a variety of strategies and requires constant renegotiation—is essential to success. All of those bits and pieces of time accumulate, making the difference between becoming a tenured professor or gypsy professor.

A tenure-track professor in NYC

Nearly three years ago, Bill and I began 21stcenturyscholar.org. When we started, Bill wanted me to focus on my experiences as a Ph.D. student. How does a student make sense of the first year? What is it like to attend a conference for the first time? How does a student manage his time? 

When I answered those questions, I moved on to new questions. What are my research interests, and what are the linkages between research, practice, and policy? Since then, the blog has been a forum where I have explored issues such as neighborhood-based reforms, innovative qualitative methods, and the relationship between qualitative research and public policy. 

I am now at the end of my time as a Ph.D. student. In a few days, I will defend my dissertation. Afterwards, while my wife studies for and takes the New York State Bar, our dog and I will pack up our apartment and look for a place to stay in New York City. In September, I will begin as Assistant Professor of Administrative and Instructional Leadership at St. John’s University. 

In the fall, my blogs will return to a familiar motif: What does it mean to be new at something? In my case, what does it mean to be an assistant professor in the city that never sleeps? What is the tenure process like? What is the relationship between research, teaching, and service? How important are grants? How does an assistant professor balance the myriad demands and uphold the fundamental principles of a changing profession? And, on and on and on and on…

This is a time of exciting change. As a researcher who studies neighborhood-based reforms, I am moving to the center of the universe. As an east coaster at heart, I cannot wait for four seasons and good pizza.

Have a great summer, and stay tuned.

Interviewing for a job and asking the right questions

In my last blog, I discussed finding and applying to faculty positions. Today, I continue to the interview stages of a job search. Typically, the process includes two parts: a phone interview and a campus visit. The campus visit consists of informal and formal meetings with faculty, administrators, and students. The meetings take place in a range of locations including offices, classrooms, restaurants, conference rooms, and even elevator rides and walks from here to there.

We often think of job interviews as one-way interactions; however, each meeting provides an applicant several opportunities to ask questions. In doing so, he or she has the chance to learn about the school and make a positive impression among the faculty. Of course, asking questions is as much about impression management as answering them. Be informed. Search the web prior to the phone interview and then again before the campus visit. What is the mission and vision of the school? What types of degrees does the school or department offer? What are the degree requirements? What does the school’s website highlight? Students? Programs? Faculty research? Who are the faculty members? What are they researching? 

Below, I provide some questions to consider:

Research

•     How does the school support new faculty?
•     What sorts of university grants are available?
•     What are the major foci for tenure?
•     Where do faculty members publish?
•     On what types of projects are faculty members working?
•     What is the vision for the school in the next ten years?
•     Are graduate assistants available for research?

Teaching

•     Do new faculty members receive course reductions?
•     How many classes do faculty members teach?
•     Which classes do new faculty members teach?
•     Are the classes on the main campus, satellite campuses, or online?
•     What are the students like?
•     What sorts of technology do classrooms include?
•     Does the school provide professional development?

Service

•     What service opportunities are available?
•     How many doctoral students do faculty members advise?
•     On what types of committees do faculty members serve?
•     Does the university provide outreach to neighboring communities?

The questions will vary based on what is important to you and also what you know about the university. Each school has its own distinct culture(s). The best advice I can offer is to talk to a range of individuals. Talk to your advisor. Talk to your committee members. Talk to newly minted assistant and associate professors. 

At the end of most interviews, someone will likely ask, “Do you have any questions?” You will be surprised how much you learn about a school during the course of an interview or series of interviews. But, sometimes you don’t know until you know. That’s why one question, above the others, will be useful: “I have heard a lot of great things so far and I do have questions. But, I’m also interested in your perspective. Based on your experiences, what do you think I should ask?”