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. 

This blog post comes from two places - first, the fact I am writing my first cover letter of the job season and second, a series of tweets I sent yesterday that I've been thinking more about. Here are the tweets:

I have spoken before about my chronic illness, and my finishing my PhD as a single parent, and the hardships that those things brought upon my work, my career progression, my ability to work (effectively) three full time jobs: the one I was paid for (that is, the teaching), the one I had to do in order to get my publications and research in order to get a permanent job, and the one I had to do to ensure the tiny human in my care was... well... cared for. You might notice that this does not account for any time I may have to manage my illness, care for myself, or have any kind of a life that didn't revolve around either the academy or my child.

Several years on from that, I've reached a point where I am exhausted. I have been in various full-time teaching-only roles for the past several years and, if I'm honest, I just want a break from it so I can build up other parts of my CV. No doubt some will say that this is proof that I think I'm too good for teaching or that I don't value or enjoy teaching. In fact, I love teaching and I think it's hugely worthwhile and therein lies my problem. The past few years I have worked above and beyond in order to deliver innovative, engaging classes and this has left me precious little time to get my research and publication on track.

Why do I bring this up, though? Because I want to highlight some very serious issues in the way that permanent academic jobs tend to be won and lost. And, in so many case, it's in research (either not enough of it, or what's there isn't good enough). Teaching is something that is ticked off as experience rather than by quality. This is, I think, demonstrated in the way that teaching and research requirements are articulated in job adverts. So, when I have a limited amount of energy to give, and I want to move toward my goal of a full-time, continuing (i.e. permanent) academic position of course I will, in part, want to stop doing one of the things that's taking so much time and energy. That can't be parenting, and it also can't be research. That's a simple calculation based on my energy levels and my long-term goals. It is not a value judgement on any of the activities I am currently engaged in.

And, of course, this directly links back with mental health and ill-health. Mine, here, is obvious. I have a serious but well managed set of illnesses that demand some work, time, and energy on an ongoing basis. But more generally academia is demonstrably bad for the mental health and well-being of early career academics - whether in teaching-only, research-only, teaching-and-research positions, or are not currently employed in academia (which may occur for a whole host of reasons from being too ill to the simple fact that there are far fewer academic positions than qualified candidates). The mental well-being needs of each of these groups will be different, not because the positions or pressures are different (indeed the pressures are pretty generally something like do all the things) but because people are different.

I assume that my musings on mental wellness and early career academia are not over, but, at least for now, I am going back to my CV and cover letter, trying to get ready for the job season without scrawling across applications in desperation: "I've had a pretty tough time of things and please keep that in mind when judging me!"

Sometimes I get asked if I'd 'recommend' having a baby during a PhD. That's a difficult question for me to answer for a few reasons. First, I haven't done a PhD without having had a baby in the middle of it. I don't know what that experience is like. Second, the right time to have a baby is always when you want to have a baby - if that's mid-PhD then you will make it work. Like I did:

I started my PhD on Monday 6th September, 2010.
I had Kiddo on Friday 11th October, 2011.
My PhD viva was on Friday 14th November, 2014.
I graduated on Wednesday 22nd July, 2015.

Having a baby during your PhD and finishing "on time" is possible. It's doable. I did it. Would I recommend it? Probably not. There's a lot of time that goes into a child, and a lot of time that's needed to go into crafting an academic career for yourself - if you (like me) get a teaching only position out of your PhD, how and where do you find the time to do the publishing required to get a permanent job, for instance?

And there's a difference, too, between having a child and having a child and a chronic mental illness. The latter necessarily makes the former harder, and together they make crafting the academic persona much, much harder. Trust me when I say that there is no instance in which a mental illness does not make a pregnancy, birth, and parenthood more difficult, and no instance in which a mental illness does not make crafting the academic persona more difficult. So...

Some days I feel like a total superhero. I want to shout from the rooftops: I did it, I survived! Hoorah!

Most days, days like today, I berate myself for thinking about how much easier my life - and particularly getting into my chosen career - could have been. I do feel jealous when people who haven't had the kinds of set backs I have get permanent jobs. Of course, if we're all honest about it jealousy is another huge part of the early-career run-around, so I don't think that's a particularly wild statement to make. But it's being hung up on how unfair the whole thing seems. Not that academia was ever fair.

I would never give back my child, obviously. She is a joy. But being a person who survives in the world with bipolar (type 1), or BPD, or chronic dissociation is hard enough. Keeping up with a bright, excitable, energetic, wonderful, six-year old when one feels completely removed from the world*... that's tough. Trying to finish my book - a book I have been trying to finish since I finished my PhD - as well as writing two grant applications (because - lets be honest - my 10 month job will come to an end before I have time to sneeze) and trying to get my two 'new research' articles through seemingly-endless revisions.

When I think about how much further behind I am because of my illness and my Kid I don't get angry. I feel a resigned hurt in my chest that these are the things which probably will cost me my academic career. But there's nothing much I can do about that but just keep plugging away.

*This is how I described it to my husband in a text message this morning: "I feel like an astronaut. I mean, in actual space. Like inside a life support cage in a totally alien and unknown environment where I have really limited vision and no understanding of the change of gravity so I can't really walk properly".

So, here are some ways you can cheer me up:
1) Make a donation to Arts Emergency. And follow them on Twitter.
2) I would quite like this t-shirt... (in a women's large, thanks!) 😉
3) Head over to my YouTube channel, and watch some of my videos about mental health, research planning, or early career academic life. Oh, and please subscribe!
4) Come and say hello on Twitter!
5) Support me over on Patreon!