recaps and fresh starts

I have been neglecting this blog pretty terribly. This month has been a combination of busy and sick, which explains most of the neglect. Some kind of toddler plague has settled in my house. I've been in denial about being sick, for the most part, but nonetheless it has made fulfilling all of my responsibilities a challenge.

Not that I consider this blog a responsibility. Anyway.

To recap this month... The semester came to an end, in the usual blur of marking. It seemed like there were an unusually high number of students with personal crises (mostly real ones, I might add). I sometimes think that there should be a course in PhD programmes that prepares professors to be quasi-therapists. That would be very useful. Anyway, I don't teach again till July, which is a bit sad--I miss it when I'm gone--but also good as it's giving me time to re-think the course I'm teaching (which is the same one I just did this past semester) and to do a few other things. First on the "other things" docket are: 1) more paid work, which may or may not mean more hours of paid work, but will at least mean doing a better job with the non-teaching work I am being paid to do; and 2) writing. I have a chapter for an anthology that I'd really like to get more-or-less finished asap as it has a firm deadline in October, which is sooner than it sounds; and I want to get at least one journal article submitted by September. So I need to get cracking.

As an aside on this subject, I just got back from a 2-day conference at Duke, and feel even more fired up about publishing than I did before. I've got to get my work out there as more than a dissertation. I went through a crisis of confidence for a while in my last year of writing the diss.--induced, I think, mainly by spending far, far too much time staring at my research notes--where I started to wonder if anyone would ever care about anything I have to say. I now think that yes, they will. If I say it right. I've realized that I have to say what I have to say and be prepared for a lot of people to NOT like it; I have to go in knowing that will happen, that there will be resistance to the ideas I propose because at least some people will feel defensive or threatened. That's partly just the nature of academic publishing, but it's also partly specific to my topic and to the "rules" of what people are and are not supposed to say about it. So if I can get up the guts to spend a while hearing people say nasty things about me...

Being at the conference also reminded me of how much more networking I wish I'd done while I was living there. There are good reasons why I didn't do it. The main one is that by the time I reached the networking phase I was sick to the point where it interfered with my work. It's really that simple. And then we high-tailed it out of NC and came back to Canada to try to put ourselves back together again (there's that damned Humpty Dumpty allusion one more time). But good reason or no, I'm not as well connected as I'd like to be, largely because I didn't do the schmoozing required. (I'm also not a go-to-bars-and-have-drinks person, which means no entry into the old boys'/girls' club anyway; I don't hide the fact that I have children, which means a certain subset of people wouldn't want me there regardless; and the one that trumps it all since the glass ceiling is still VERY MUCH a reality, I'm not a boy, so there was a limit to how far I could get before I even started. I'm outside the circle of childfree women, a.k.a. The Serious Scholars Living the Life of the Mind, and the let's-be-buddies men, a.k.a. when you come drink with me I will connect you with jobs and opportunities. Awesome.) But I'm totally digressing because in the case of the department that sponsored the conference, it actually would have been more significant to just be present in their geographic space over the last few years, going to seminars and films and whatnot. (Which doesn't cancel out by bitching about sexism in History--that's still true. And, of course, having a new baby in the last few years would have made a lot of that impossible/extremely difficult, so cue back to the point about sexism, but make it systemic to all of academia/professional life rather than pinned to one discipline.) The period in the sentence here is that I just need to get myself out there NOW.

And, in fact, two weeks from now (13 days, actually) I go back to Duke again. It's not for research or presenting, though. I'm going with the whole family for convocation. I wasn't going to go (didn't go to my MA grad, as I was already in NC by then and didn't care enough to fly all the way back to Vancouver) but then I heard Oprah Winfrey is the speaker, so that was that. Not going to miss Oprah. She is someone who drives me crazy at the same time as she fascinates me--I'm guessing a lot of people feel that way about her. Anyway, so she's speaking at the football stadium in the big grad on the Sunday, and the day before is the hooding. I'm worried about boiling to death in cap and gown. I have to have something irrelevant on to which to project my stress. (I'm also worried that my advisor will forget/be suddenly unable to come and hood me--but that is actually a somewhat reasonable concern. My friend's advisor will be there to hood her, and in a pinch she could hood me, too, since we know each other well and we're from the same department; but there's an awkward history there that would make it kind of achingly, painfully ironic for me. Do not want.)

But this morning I'm sitting in my kitchen drinking tea, waiting for iTunes to finish converting my nearly-6000 song library to whatever format it converts things to. It has taken over 12 hours now and I suspect there are another 12 to go. It's sunny and less warm than I'd like it to be, but winter is over and I really feel, in many ways, like this week I get to start fresh.

There may be a book in me after all.

For the first time in a while, I'm feeling inspired. Writing my dissertation burned me out. I guess that's fairly normal. I remember finishing my MA thesis and feeling like I would never again, EVER, have anything else to say. Multiply that by about a billion. Well, after this past weekend, which I spent at a big conference in my field, I actually feel like maybe--just maybe--there's something left in me that might be worth putting out there. I had two meetings with university presses. I blew the first one, but thanks to a straightforward (if personality-impaired) editor and the counsel of some wise colleagues, the second one was awesome, and I came away feeling like writing the book will be an opportunity rather than an obligation. I know, I know, it's going to end up being the same grind as the diss. in the end, but still: at least now I want to start, whereas a week ago thinking about the book made me want to slit my own throat and watch myself bleed.

So, in addition to the writing stuff, the conference was great for getting back in touch with old friends (though there wasn't as much time for socializing as I'd have liked) and for making new connections. I made a great contact with an Important Person in my Field--someone who, to be frank, I hadn't given much credit until now. My own panel was less great than I'd hoped. We had a significant turnout, which was no small feat at a conference where attendance seemed pretty pathetic compared to past years, and the audience had great questions. But I was totally unimpressed by our commentator, who I am quite certain didn't actually read my paper at all. You know those kinds of papers students turn in when you are pretty sure they didn't read the book and it's all bullshit padding? Yeah. That. So that was a bummer, especially because she was all oohs and ahhs over another paper on the panel, which is fine (I don't begrudge others their oohs and ahhs) except that I found myself scribbling over and over again on my pad of paper, where is the critical lens? Sheesh.

Also: why do people knowingly speak for longer than their allotted time? Why? Really. I will go to my grave not understanding why any academic believes that any other academic wants to listen to a paper longer than 20 minutes. This is a self-selecting business: no one here is overly social and most of us are totally self-absorbed, so word to the wise, 20 minutes tops. If you can't say it in 20 minutes, it's not worth saying because, newsflash, no one is listening.

Now I have 10 days to write another paper for a conference in 2 weeks, I have to mark a metric craptonne of my own students' essays (my own fault for assigning them, I know), then there will be final exams, plus my government gig, plus life. Plus I've agreed to sub a body ball class next week for another instructor at my gym (I usually just teach hi-lo aerobics), which will be fun but, um, I have never taught body ball so...yeah. I have 8 days to figure that out. Tomorrow I am meeting with my trainer who has warned me via e-mail, "Prepare for torture." Interestingly, this intrigues and excites me, which I think probably says a lot about who I am as a person.

On the brightest side, this week marks the final teaching week in the semester, and the final week of a course that I was terrified to teach because it is outside my field of expertise. I don't know what the student evaluations are going to look like, but my own assessment is that it went much better than I expected. I made it through all the lectures alive, at any rate, and I learned a lot along the way. There were only a handful of total dear-in-the-headlights moments where students exposed my lack of knowledge for all to see; most of the time, I think I did reasonably well, though I'm as aware as anyone that my teaching lacked the depth it normally has when I'm running courses within my research interests.

Still. I want a real job. I'm kind of sick of this shit.

gatekeeping

A student came to see me today to talk about a paper he'd written, but we ended up spending most of the time talking about other things, including academic hierarchies. The topic came up when he noted that the department had changed the board out in the hallway where they list professors' names and their office numbers. It used to be a simple alphabetical list. But some time in the last month or so it became segregated so that sessional instructors (the Canadian equivalent of the US adjunct professor) are listed separately from regular faculty. Never mind that the vast majority of the sessionals are regular fixtures in the department, teaching multiple courses year after year. Never mind that many of us have pinch-hit for the department more than once, helping out at a moment's notice to fill a suddenly instructor-less course, etc. Never mind any of the ways in which we are a major part of the academic structure of most universities. Never mind. The big problem, which was why my student raised the issue in the first place, is that the new format makes it hard for students to find us sessionals. They look at the list of professors and don't see our names and give up--I suppose at that point they roam the halls examining nameplates on doors? I heard one on a cell phone the other day, "Er, excuse me, but do you know where I find Dr. H.?" (I popped my head out at that and waved him in.)

Now, granted, university students should have the capacity to read another inch or two down the board to find the sessionals list. So, to be fair to the list-maker, reading the new board isn't exactly rocket science. But this misses the point, which is: why, after all these years, the new segregated format? What gives?

My student may have already found the answer. When he raised the topic today, he said he was surprised to find out I was a sessional, and he noted that there are three of us in that category, in contrast to many regular faculty with whom he'd had some experience, who he believes are "so great." Now, I don't make that same distinction--I say this not in an attempt to cover my ass, but in all honesty: there are some really fantastic faculty members in the department where I teach. Truly. And I know he knows this. So, I'm not going to join in the us-against-them game. But I will emphasize his central point, which is that there are some kick-ass sessionals who teach at this university, and who do so by choice. We have PhDs from world-class schools and we choose to be here for a range of personal reasons, and I'm starting to realize that there are at least some regular faculty who, at best, are losing their patience, and at worst, feel some serious resentment toward us.

Let me stop here for a second to set the record straight about why I bring any of this up: this post is not a woe-is-me-I'm-a-lowly-sessional whinge. Granted, my ultimate goal in life is not to be a sessional instructor. Of course I would like a job that had some security and paid better and had benefits and at least a modicum of prestige, especially after spending 9 years in graduate school to earn my doctorate. Who wouldn't? But for now, there are things about being where I am that outweigh those desires. And I'm okay with that sacrifice. I have chosen not to go on the wide academic market just yet, and I understand what that choice means for my position within the academic hierarchy (read: marginalized).

Still, because I'm interested in power relations and all that jazz, I can't help but look at my life and ruminate on the ridiculousness of academic gatekeeping. What's it to the regular faculty if the names of sessionals are included in alphabetical order with theirs? In what world is that any kind of real threat? Why on earth make it harder for students to find any instructor--whatever his/her rank--who has been charged with the responsibility of teaching a course for the department? Courses taught by sessional faculty provide students with the same credits as those taught by those in the tenure stream. From the students' perspectives (and this was confirmed in the last external review), we're all the same.

And there's the rub. We're all the same from the students' perspective. They could give two shits about rank. They don't even know what rank means, for the most part. All they know is which courses they like and who they want to stare at/listen to/be judged by each semester. And I'm getting the sense that the fact they choose me or my sessional colleagues pisses many regular faculty off to no end. I'm starting to realize that this drives many of them absolutely bonkers. (In the spirit of providing evidence for this claim, I do have a story to tell, but I can't tell it publicly. If you know me, ask and I might share. If you don't, trust me: they're pissed.)

Maybe if I'd spent years of my life climbing the tenure ladder I'd be just as proprietary. Maybe I, too, would begrudge people paid less than half my salary and denied any job security the small gift of student satisfaction and relative popularity. Maybe. But I doubt it.

Back when I was a dancer, a friend said to me, "Other people's successes do not detract from your own." And I took her words to heart. Sure, I get jealous sometimes. Everybody does. But do I get jealous when the people scrambling for crumbs actually manage to scrounge a few? No. I can say quite honestly that I do not. I'm not that gauche.

I'm not bitter about the academic hierarchy because I'm at the bottom of it. Because I know it's my own choice to be where I am. But I am bitter about it because I care deeply about scholarship and teaching, and I believe that ultimately, it doesn't serve anyone very well. A colleague recently commiserated that it is bad, yes, but he isn't creative enough to think of an alternative. Me neither. Not alone. But it's high time that, as a group, we at least started brainstorming. Because it's just too ironic that so many of us progressive-lefty-power-to-the-people academics are so whipped by this archaic, outdated, paternalistic, classist hierarchy. Scholarship should not be a pissing contest. Or worse. It's about time for some change.

and...

I just realized that my last two posts both referred to Humpty Dumpty (now make that three). Ha.

...is this thing on?

Wow. I've wanted to post several times this week but due to a massive computer meltdown last weekend was unable to do so. I'm still trying to put my computer back together, Humpty-Dumpty-style. I want to say here, in no uncertain terms, that Dell and Microsoft suck ass. For so many reasons, which I won't enumerate because that would take longer than the 5 hours I spent on the phone with tech support. Bleh.

Of course, all those things I wanted to blog about? Forgotten. Which tells me they were probably not worth discussing in the first place.

I'm sure I'll think of something else shortly. Not that it matters because, to my knowledge, only one person is actually reading this thing. (Hi, Kim!)

In the meantime, this is a big week: penultimate lecture for the course I'm teaching on the history of the Vietnam War, and major conference presentation on my dissertation research in Seattle on Friday (Organization of American Historians annual shindig). Among other things. Happy about the former, nervous about the latter. Glad this semester is coming to a relatively (so far) successful close. *knock wood* The conference could go any number of ways; it has been a few months since I've really thought much about my dissertation. I took a burn-out induced break post-defense. It's time to get back at it, however; I'm glad that the Seattle show is pushing me back to it, though nervous about how I'll be received.

Oh, and that lay-off I was talking about before? Safe till June 30. After that it's anybody's guess, but for now I'm breathing.

One of these days I'm going to blog about something substantive. One of these days...

Will this come back to haunt me during the election?

I've had a lot going on in the past couple of weeks, most of which has prevented me from paying any attention to this blog. Not because I've lacked time--although I have lacked time--but because the majority of what has been going on in my life/head is not stuff I can really post about in any kind of public forum. It's the kind of stuff that is confidential and classified and if I tell anyone I'll then have to shoot them, etc. Not the stuff blogs are made of.

So, rather than a series of oblique posts about nothing, I've just said nothing. And I've done a lot of thinking about the degree to which my use of the Internet might ever be summoned later by God-only-knows-who in God-only-knows-what-context? I've heard stories recently about people being fired for what, to me, seem like incredibly benign comments in Facebook status updates. Really? For serious? As much as I think that's beyond ridiculous and I'm hesitant to curb my speech because some ass in power decides that what I say in my off-hours is any of his/her business, I'm going to curb my speech because there are a lot of asses in power who clearly do have the ability to shut down a person's wage-earning potential due to things he/she might say during off-hours.

So, yeah. Most of my ruminations over the past few weeks have been work-related to do with things I'm not supposed to talk about. Hmph. Hopefully the dust will settle soon and the gag rule will lift. But at that point, I might be a different person, to the extent that my job does define my identity.

In short: I'm facing a potential lay-off at one job and I'm underemployed at the other, and I'm not supposed to bitch about any of it publicly. Because evidently professionalism for someone at my stage of the game is based on maintaining the status quo and yes sir, no sir, and accepting the things that most piss you off.I'm not doing a very good job of being professional. I knew that if I tried to blog here the shell would crack. So, before Humpty Dumpty shatters beyond repair, I'd best say goodbye. I'll be back.

I need to learn all of the lyrics to Beck's "I'm a Loser." I mean, every last word, in order. I'd feel very accomplished if I could sing it in the car. I managed to do it for Franz Ferdinand's "The Fallen," though I'm still a verse or two short on REM's "It's the End of the World as We Know It," and seeing as I've been listening to that song for decades, I'm not sure I'll ever get better than I am right now.

Hmmm...what to do with this space?

It's funny to be writing a post for a blog with no readers. I'm not sure yet what this blog is going to be, exactly. I envision it as a space to play with some ideas, to test things out in a place where anyone could happen on them. It will be partly academic (because I seem unable to detach myself from academic expression no matter how hard I try), largely opinionated, undoubtedly sometimes outraged (because, as the bumper sticker on my car says, if you aren't outraged, you're not paying attention).

There are a number of issues I think about most, which will probably form the basis for most of the posts. I spend a lot of time thinking about historical consciousness and memory and the implications of a sense of history for creating justice (social, political, economic) in the present. I think a lot about feminism as a political movement, as the basic guideline of my life, and as the basis of scholarship. I think a lot about the politics of the body, especially through the lenses of pregnancy and birth.

I'm sure I'll write about my kids and my husband, my jobs, our lives here on this island, politics, my love of all things '80s (get ready to hear a lot about The Smiths and Duran Duran), and my love-hate relationship with academia.

But not all of that right now. Right now, I need to go in search of a good Oscar night recap. I wasn't able to watch any of the show because my littlest one insisted on watching Toopy and Binoo. And I must see Sean Penn's speech.