A long time ago now, the wonderful Liz Gloyn introduced me to the idea of the Research Otter and I have happily been ottering away since. An Otter, in this context, is a (hopefully) wonderful idea that you have and cannot, for whatever reason, use at the moment, but you don’t want to lose forever. You collect these in whatever way you wish to, and then they are there for you to come back to later.
I am currently working on an R&R, for a delightfully weird and personal article (when it comes out, you will immediately know that this is the article I am referencing). This article is one I wrote in a frenzied 10 days late last year and shot off to a journal I hoped would be amenable to publishing something like it. I realised, as I am sitting and thinking more purposefully and clearly about this article during revision, that this was an Otter that I didn’t put away. Rather, I set aside the work I was doing at the time (something I’ve been working on for the better part of three years, and which also received an R&R, and is my next job to tackle), and lived this weird and personal article. Obviously, this cannot be the fate of all Otters. Some of my current Otters are nothing more than a whisp of a thought. ‘Pharmakos Ritual/Taylor Swift Vigilante Shit – Hera’, reads one. ‘Demeter: suppliants touch her – votive reliefs, Eleusis’ reads another. ‘Funeral Oration: visual/tactile/love/monuments’, proclaims a third. I could probably sit down and work these things out, and one day I will. They are all ideas that, although perhaps don’t seem it, spark something in my brain. And, as I work on this R&R, I have added several more Otters to the list. Things that I do want to work on, things that may come out of this current piece or may deviate from it. I suppose what I am trying to say is that research is not what I expected when I began researching as an Undergraduate staring down the barrel of a 25,000-word Honours thesis. It is not (just) sitting in a library and reading things, and then having thoughts and writing them down. Rather, it’s a weird collaboration between your past, present, and future selves, other scholars (some of whom you will never meet, some of whom you will disagree with, some of whom may become your friends). And that’s quite wonderful.
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On January 10th, The Chronicle of Higher Education published an article titled ‘Dos and Don’ts of a Visiting Professorship‘ by two senior academics. Like a lot of junior academics, I have thoughts about the article. To begin with, I want to acknowledge the thread that Bret Deveraux wrote on Bluesky (and also X, but I no longer live there): you should read that. I wanted, though, to respond from a slightly different perspective because, on this side of the pond, these kinds of positions are widespread and also seen as a necessary step towards being appointed to an ongoing position (that is, what used to be known as a permanent position). This is not (just) what you do while waiting for a TT position to hire you; it’s what you do if you want an academic career and don’t get one of the very competitive research fellowships.
When I finished my PhD, these jobs – again, we are talking about the UK, just to be clear – were usually called Teaching Fellowships – that is, you are appointed to teach, usually for a year, sometimes longer. More commonly now, they are Lectureships. I have already spoken about how I feel like this is a step backwards because it doesn’t really acknowledge the position (and, therefore, what it is not: giving you time to do any research). They are (as the authors identify visiting positions in the US context) fixed-term, often full-time (but not always), and usually are needed when a permanent staff member wins a grant, goes on secondment somewhere else, or for almost any other number of reasons. Junior academics know that it’s very, very, (very) unlikely that positions of this kind are a ‘temporary hold’ until a permanent position is made (though it is sometimes the case) and that even if that happens, a full HR process will need to be followed, and you are definitely not an ‘inside candidate’ (usually). Having established that, I want to go through the original article point by point: What to do as a Visiting Faculty Member I am already annoyed that this is where we start – with senior academics telling junior academics what to do… but let’s continue. “Interview as if it’s a tenure-track job”: we can probably skip this for the UK context. The interviewing process is very different here than in the US and already relatively similar for ongoing and fixed-term positions. You will have an interview with a panel – these are usually around 30 minutes – and you will usually have to do some kind of presentation (or two!) – these can be anywhere from 10 to 30 minutes for both types of jobs. Follow the instructions you have been given for the interview. “Recognise the value of saying yes”: excuse my language but absolutely get fucked. We have all had jobs that we loved that didn’t love us back (not that our colleagues didn’t love us back, or anything, but that the system is… not geared up for loving any staff and especially not fixed-term – disposable – staff!). Learning to say ‘no’ is the biggest gift a junior academic can give themselves, and I don’t just mean for exciting conferences that you definitely can’t afford, but also for unnecessary service and admin positions in your department. Do what you must do, of course, and do it well. But if you take things on, make sure they will count – long-term – for your career progression. “Once hired, be an enthusiastic colleague”: be nice to your colleagues because you are (hopefully) not a prick. If you can, go to department events. If you can’t, don’t go. Don’t go overboard apologising (though you can explain) for not going – permanent staff don’t do that. “Recruit local mentors”: find mentors wherever they are. Ask for a departmental mentor with whom you can have a coffee and ask all your inevitable stupid questions about what the ten million different acronyms mean and where to find this particular form on the VLE. These people may become good, long-term, career mentors for you. They may not. “Your focus will be on teaching but carve out time to do research”: The thing that makes me the most angry about this article is that it does not, ever, in any way, acknowledge that this is the way things are and to some extent you have to play the game that’s been set but at the same time the game is stupid, rigged against you, and will leave you with worse mental and physical health than you started. Academia is a Battle Royale. Of course, you have to research and publish because that is what you will be judged on when applying for ongoing posts. But it’s also ridiculous, and I hope beyond hope that as increasing numbers of academics who have been through this iteration of the job market move into senior positions, periods of intensive teaching will be increasingly considered (and, actually, in my experience, this is already happening – albeit slowly and in isolated pockets). The authors of the Chronicle piece also suggest undertaking some pedagogic research: this one is more tricky. I have had some pedagogy research published, and only once has this been raised as something a panel even noticed, let alone appreciated, and I still did not get that job. “Ask your supervisor to evaluate your teaching”: as soon as you can get your Associate Fellowship of AdvanceHE (formally the HEA) – if you can, do this during your PhD. Then, in your first job, get Fellowship. After this, only undergo teaching reviews as and when required by your job. “Make yourself invaluable and reliable”: Again, kindly, fuck off. Do what you must do in your position, and do it genuinely to the best of your ability. But you are not invaluable to the department; you are disposable. You are in a disposable position. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t pitch in, but it does mean that you should be selfish. No one will remember if you took on x admin task, but they will remember the kick-arse article you wrote. Again: it sucks, it needs to change, but this is the game. The authors then list various things that you shouldn’t do during your post, including not thinking you’re a shoo-in for any permanent version of your job that comes up, getting involved in department politics, or stopping applying for jobs. What struck me the most about this section was how condescending the advice is – even if well-meaning. No one is getting into a one-year job and then… not applying for other jobs. I want to end what has become a very long post by reiterating what I said above, and I guess this is the tl;dr version. It’s galling to have senior academics write pieces like this and not acknowledge the role that they (and all senior academics) play in perpetuating the exploitative systems of academia. Yes, some senior academics are really good to junior, fixed-term staff, but it is not enough to give advice that essentially says, “Do everything; you don’t need to have a life because a TT job is the holy grail”. Junior academics do have lives. We have families; we have people we have to care for (children, elders); we have chronic illnesses and disabilities; we have hobbies; we need rest, and we are not slaves to the machine of academic progress. Treat us like people, not like puppies. |
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