Mentoring graduate students, part 2

Discovery is central to graduate education. Students explore new ideas and challenge old beliefs. They practice complex skills and interact with an array of scholars. But, from reading a professor’s trenchant feedback to narrowing your dissertation focus, the process is not always glamorous. Here are a few resources to ease the journey:

Purdue Owl APA Formatting and Style Guide

Let’s start with some basic facts: APA guidelines are weird, quirky, and illogical. Here’s another fact: Every paper you submit should conform to the conventions. They provide the template for social science papers. When students deviate, professors notice. If you submit a paper that looks like an e.e. cummings poem, it won’t end well. I promise.

APA publishes a style guide. However, there are plenty of free resources. Purdue’s Online Writing Lab provides the best.

Tips: First, use the search box to find topics. If you’re looking up the rules for three levels of headings, rather than navigating through menus, search for “headings.” Second, check out the sample paper. It provides examples of some of the more unique conventions, like running headers.

Education Commission of the States (ECS) and Politico Morning Education

ECS and Politico send daily emails. ECS aggregates news reports. Politico reviews policy news. Read both to stay informed and to think about possible dissertation topics.

Tip: Many schools, along with research associations and divisions, distribute updates via email. For instance, USC provides several news related updates. AERA’s Division J (edited by Pullias’ very own Dan Maxey) sends news about jobs, fellowships, and publication opportunities. Subscribe.

The Chronicle of Higher Education

The Chronicle serves two critical functions. First, the site provides a great mix of news and opinion about higher education. Second, it publishes job listings. Check the news to stay up-to-date. Read the blogs to learn from experts. And, peruse the job listings to get a sense of the current market.

Tip: The Chronicle uses paywalls. To obtain full access, login through your university’s library portal.

Twitter

Many, many years ago (like five), Bill and I incorporated Twitter into our qualitative methods class. Some students wondered about usefulness. Back then, the social networking site felt a little bit like a high school Dungeons and Dragons party. The cool kids were few and far between. Now, Twitter feels more like a college house party full of unique and diverse people. Twitter is an essential tool for graduate students. Participate in chats. Communicate with top scholars. Follow people and organizations. Receive news and updates. Conduct research. Share findings. Extend your reach.

Tips: Choose a professional name. Tweet regularly.

Mentoring graduate students, Part 1

I love Shakespeare. No. Wait. That’s not quite right. I really love Shakespeare. 

As an undergrad student, I read most of his plays and all of his sonnets. I visited the Folger Shakespeare Library. I studied literary criticisms. I enrolled in as many Brit Lit classes as possible. And, I constantly thought about his lines and ideas.

As a first-year English teacher, I assumed everyone shared my enthusiasm. Who wouldn’t want to read the greatest play ever written? It’s Hamlet! 

Teenagers. That’s who. Iambic pentameter and arcane words aren’t always the best attention grabbers. Rookie mistake. I quickly learned my lesson. For Shakespeare—and most of the texts from my former district’s dusty curriculum—the keys to engagement and learning were relevance and connection. My students wanted to know why something was important and how it connected to their lives. Once we answered those questions, more often than not, my students excelled. They began teaching me new things about The Scottish Play.

My experience as a grad student and now professor has not been that different. While I love reading Durkheim, de Certeau, or Lefebvre on a Saturday night, I understood that that’s not everyone’s idea of a weekend well spent. Students have different motivations for attending grad school, and context really matters. My academic experiences as a part-time master’s student at Hopkins and full-time teacher in P.G. County diverged significantly from my experiences as a full-time Ph.D. student and part-time research assistant at USC. Similarly, my involvement probably would have been very different if I had kids.

As a professor, I always try to remember my experiences as a high school teacher. At every step, I wonder: How can I connect the content to the lives of my students, and why is it relevant? I often use backward mapping. In other words, what will students need to write an excellent dissertation or become an outstanding school leader?

Of course, all students need a foundational knowledge, even if that includes dense, obscure texts by brilliant French theorists. But, relevance should always be clear.

In my next blog, I’ll discuss some basic resources that all beginning graduate students should know and use.

Sitting at some new tables in the academic cafeteria

As Murray Milner documents in Freaks, Geeks, and Cool Kids, teenagers often order themselves using status symbols. Take a stroll around a high school cafeteria. With few exceptions, students clump neatly into groups: cool kids, jocks, band geeks, drama nerds, emos (not to be confused with emus), and any number of other categories. Each group has unique norms, values, and symbols. While monumental decisions loom—like what to do for the rest of their lives—teenagers spend inordinate amounts of time wondering about very different questions, like what to wear, where to sit, and with whom to talk.

Fast-forward to academic life. How different are scholars? What do we wear? Where do we sit? And, with whom do we talk? Cliques and status symbols—albeit drastically different—are very much part of the daily experiences of graduate students and faculty members. However, instead of figuring out what to do on Friday night, we talk about epistemologies.

A few weeks ago, I was named as an Emerging Education Policy Scholar (EEPS). The program, a collaboration between The Thomas B. Fordham Institute and the American Enterprise Institute, two conservative organizations, provides the opportunity for young, policy-minded scholars to collaborate with and learn from a range of key policy players. I know colleagues who have participated in previous cohorts, and I know some of my cohort-mates. I’m thrilled to have the opportunity. 

As an early career faculty member, I didn’t think too much about how others would react. Why would I? I have the opportunity to talk to really smart people about critical issues. Even more, while no one would mistake Bill as a neocon, as an advisor, he has always encouraged me to communicate with and learn from individuals from all perspectives, even if they belong to a different political party or tax bracket. That’s part of being a reasoned, thoughtful scholar, right?

Reactions have been interesting. One university colleague congratulated me and also provided a few tips for “talking to the other side.” Another stood speechless. I saw the wheels turning in her head: Is Randy a liberal or conservative? To diffuse, I made a joke about brushing up on supply-side economics. Both people were sincerely congratulatory and well meaning. But, the interactions revealed the ways in which politics—among other factors—act as a sorting mechanism among academics.

Most will agree that improving education is important. And yet, our actions do not always demonstrate the same joint commitment. I skim vitriolic, all-or-nothing arguments from both liberal and conservative scholars on Twitter. I then read supposedly objective and rigorous research and wonder how to separate reality from ideology, research from propaganda. A methods section—if there even is one—can only do so much; social media is turning out to be just as telling for the trustworthiness of a researcher. 

Some seem most concerned about being right. “We know what works,” they argue and then provide a checklist of reforms in which the research is decidedly mixed. Likewise, intransigent liberals attack and vilify corporate reformers and then, in the same breath, argue for deliberative democracy and social justice. If people scream and yell long enough, others—even if they share similar beliefs—start to wonder about things like credibility, ulterior motives, and a true desire to have a cooperative and mutually beneficial discussion.

I’m going to sit at some new tables in the academic cafeteria. For the few worried liberals or qualitative researchers out there, I still support universal pre-k programs, neighborhood schools, and more inclusive standards for government-funded research. But, we place too much emphasis on who’s sitting where. I’m interested in discussing innovative solutions and improving education. Our problems are far too complex to be solved by anchoring to a set of ideals and then yelling louder than the other person.

Rush to relevance: Conducting research to improve policy and practice

“We need research to be more relevant” is a common clarion call in education. Most recently, John Easton, Director of IES, released a video for AERA in which he talks about different initiatives to improve relevancy.

During one of my first Ph.D. courses, Bill asked us about the three major responsibilities of academics: research, teaching, and service. In particular, he wondered about teaching, something that is too often overlooked at prestigious universities. As someone who just left the high school classroom, I boldly proclaimed—in a way only a first-year Ph.D. can—that all professors should be required to teach, and to teach well. Students pay a lot of money and deserve more than someone who views teaching as a chore to be completed before doing important work. As Bill pointed out then, and I have thought about since, academics have different skill sets. Some are unbelievably talented teachers, others researchers. Let’s propose the best possible scenario: Young scholars receive effective mentorship and professional development and work at universities that support and reward teaching and learning. Even then, some will never be effective teachers. What’s my point? Bold proclamations often fail to account for important nuances.

Just as I wanted all celebrity researchers to be all-star teachers, I think, at a certain level, all research should be relevant. But, the rush to relevancy has a few troubling side effects. First, it ignores the value of various forms of research. A new set of guidelines illustrates the types of methodologies—namely experimental and quasi-experimental—that IES favors (and funds) to produce relevant research. Large-scale, experimental studies are important. If I want to understand how growing up in a low-income neighborhood effects social mobility, neighborhood effects studies provide compelling, significant findings. What else do they provide? A lot of unanswered questions. The Moving to Opportunity (MTO) study, funded by HUD in the 1990s, was an innovative randomized experiment. Researchers sought to understand what happened to low-income families when they received housing vouchers. Scholars are still arguing about the study’s effects on variables like educational achievement, employment, and health. Even the best studies fail to capture the complex and dynamic social processes at work in low-income neighborhoods. While a life history of one or an ethnography of sixty may not generalize, they can provide valuable findings. Understanding social issues requires sophisticated, complimentary methodologies.

Second, the rush to relevance may diminish academic freedom. Foundations and think tanks like and support trendy issues. Schools of education like grant funding. Inevitably, these factors lead to subtle (or not-so-subtle) nudges to Ph.D. students and early career faculty: “Yes, you are free to study whatever you want, but we hope it will be relevant and also generate funding.” Considering fewer and fewer tenure-track positions, the pressures are magnified. Some scholars maintain balanced research portfolios, examining both mainstream and non-mainstream topics. But, even in those circumstances, we diminish the vibrancy of national debates by settling into familiar paths. 

Third, and related to the above point, relevance relies on ever-changing interests. Last year, we talked about MOOCs. This year, we are talking about Common Core. Too often, scholars sacrifice their own interests to pursue those of others. I want to be clear here: I am not arguing against forward-thinking scholars or the study of emerging, innovative issues. Rather, policy windows open and close quickly. Thinking of the most pressing, deeply rooted issues in education, neither scholarship nor meaningful reform benefit from that same hectic agenda. Instead of racing to relevance and the allure of fame and funding, researchers ought to use their own experiences and expertise to help define what is and is not important.

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.

Open access and scholarly publishing

Napster operated from 1999 to 2001. Twenty-six million users joined the peer-to-peer file sharing service. From B-sides to bootlegs, the digital venue allowed music lovers to share rare songs and provided unprecedented access to diverse forms of music.

Record label executives rebelled. Users, they argued, were stealing music. They targeted the college student who, with no regard for the artists’ (and industry’s) labor, amassed a 500 GB music collection. And yet, by the time Metallica, Dr. Dre, and other wealthy industry figures shut the service down, the change had already happened. The top-down corporate structure could not hold. 

Napster represents the ethos of a tech-savvy, connected generation. New technologies, along with sharing tendencies, have challenged issues such as access and ownership. 

Changing production and distribution channels have influenced all forms of media. Apple and book publishers are now battling allegations of e-book price fixing. Microsoft and Sony have both announced next-gen gaming consoles. A key issue among gamers has been rumors about game sharing and “always on” consoles. Gamers worry that corporations will use technology—the same technology that has allowed mass sharing—to limit access. PlayStation, unsurprisingly, has taken the early lead by charging less, limiting restrictions, and supporting indie game developers.

In academia, open access journals have increasingly dotted the publishing landscape. AERA recently announced a partnership with Sage to launch AERA Open, a peer-reviewed open access journal. It will allow all online users to view and read articles. To defray costs, AERA Open will charge authors a fee: AERA members will pay $400 whereas non-members will spend $700.

AERA’s forward thinking decision to embrace open access recognizes the shifting dynamics of knowledge production and distribution and raises a number of important and interesting questions: How will analytics affect journal and article rankings? Will crowdsourcing become more influential? And, how will open access modify the ways in which people find articles and value research topics? 

Open access journals present opportunities and challenges for graduate students and early career faculty members. For individuals like myself, I am drawn to new forms of distribution and presentation. Some fear—like record industry execs did of Napster—that open access will ruin the knowledge economy and devalue the work of academics. I disagree. Higher education is changing. Fear of uncertainty is not an acceptable reason to uphold the status quo and limit free access to knowledge. Open access potentially allows wider readership and improves visibility. 

The new trend encompasses several risks. For tenure-track faculty, a level of uncertainty exists regarding rigor. Although faulty, impact factors are important to tenure. Scholars make their names by publishing in top-rated and topic-specific journals. Even though the peer review process makes open access far different from pay-to-publish journals, many deans may not be able to differentiate between the two. Authors, consequently, have to choose and advocate wisely. As Bill suggested during an AERA governance meeting, while impact factors may not be available, other metrics such as accept / reject rates provide solid evidence to tenure committees.

Overall, I believe the benefits of open access outweigh the risks. The primary challenge for journal editors will be to maintain high standards, provide a quick peer review process, and present articles in a compelling and logical manner. The test for academics will be to embrace new technologies and practices.

Tumult at the top

I taught in a district that was a punching bag for critics of underperforming schools. Scandals appeared in local newspapers and on nightly news reports. In my school, teachers then debated the issues, including cheating, sexual assaults, theft, embezzlement, bribery, racism, dropout factories, fired or defecting leaders, and on and on and on. 

At a certain point, dysfunction and scandal became integral parts of our school culture. The best teachers and students were not defined by the merit of their work; they were praised for their ability to excel in such bleak conditions. The most effective administrators were not identified for their ability as change agents; they were recognized for their skills at navigating flawed and corrupt bureaucratic systems. Worst of all, many students stopped believing in education as the great equalizer and started opting out.

Postsecondary education had largely eluded the degree of scrutiny and criticism allotted to secondary education. While politicians targeted high schools for placing the nation at risk, universities continued to be the international standard for academic rigor. As Bill pointed out in a previous blog, scrutiny—and all of the bombastic language and poorly chosen metaphors that come with it—has found higher education.

With student debt at nearly $1 trillion, college is no longer a sure bet. Scandals are only heightening the sense that something is awry. Imagine you are a student who is incurring over $100,000 in debt at USC and you regularly get racially profiled. Even more, imagine you came from a school like the one in which I taught. How would you feel?

St. John’s University, where I am employed, has endured a leadership scandal this year. I asked a few undergrads—both first-generation students from low-income households— about the president’s recent retirement. One student replied, “They talk about all these [Catholic] ideals, then a guy’s gonna take a Rolex.” His friend laughed: “I’d just be happy if my professor answered an email.”

From community outreach to applied scholarship, universities are involved in substantial and beneficial endeavors. For the most part, higher education still represents hope and opportunity. However, one injustice often overshadows one thousand good deeds.

I don’t know what higher education will like in five, ten, or fifty years. The sky isn’t falling (which may be just as worrisome as if it were). Large universities motor on and tuitions and student debts continue to increase. I do know that it’s time to reconnect with core values such as truth and justice and refocus on essential tasks like teaching, learning, and service.

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.

Have Ph.D. Will travel. (Part 1)

As May approaches, Ph.D. candidates are scrambling to submit dissertation chapters to their committee chairs. At the same time, many have heard or are eagerly waiting to hear from search committees regarding potential jobs. Some even have job offers.

During a hectic time, the negotiation process only adds to the hubbub. Here’s some advice:

• Take a deep breath. 
• Talk to your advisor.
• Take another deep breath.
• Ph.D. candidates are often ambitious people. You will undoubtedly consider how each and every aspect of the offer will impact every minute of your life for the next 30 years. Don’t. 
• Identify the negotiables and non-negotiables. Maybe the university does not have a lot of wiggle room in terms of salary. However, they may be able to offer a reduced course load or extra funds for research or travel.
• Countless questions will run through your head: Why did they only offer $66,000? Glassdoor.com shows the average salary for assistant professors at So and So U is $75,000. Is the dean shortchanging me? Can I get more for moving costs? What about the teaching load? Work on getting the best package possible, but also consider the big picture. At the beginning of the process, Bill told me, “The first raise is the biggest raise.” A little later, he also said, “Do you want to be known as the new guy who is a diva?” In the long run, do you want to go to the mat for a $2,000 difference between what you would like and what they are offering? You may decide “yes.” But, understand the reasons why.
• Get the offer in writing. Some universities use a standard contract. The dean will put any negotiated items in a separate letter.
• If the job offer isn’t what you expected, the negotiations aren’t going well, and you didn’t have a great experience during the job talk, maybe you should consider other options. Don’t feel trapped.  
• Last, if you accept the offer, allow yourself to celebrate. Having a Ph.D. and a job are quite the accomplishments. 

In my next post, I will discuss what happens when you move from one place to another.

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?