Do you want to know who is landing tenure track jobs? How many jobs go to people from top programs? How long people are on the job market before they land their full-time job? We want to know, and …
Source: Who Lands Tenure Track Jobs?
Do you want to know who is landing tenure track jobs? How many jobs go to people from top programs? How long people are on the job market before they land their full-time job? We want to know, and …
Source: Who Lands Tenure Track Jobs?
It’s been a while since I ran a guest post. A few weeks ago, Maren Wood did a webinar to share her findings about who gets academic jobs nowadays. Maren’s excellent research validated what many of us long-time adjuncts know: academia punishes age, experience, and contingency. “The market rewards potential, not experience,” she tweeted to me on December 3. In Humanities, most recent tenure-track hires have gone either to ABDs or candidates within 3 years of receiving their doctorates. Talk about having a short shelf life. I was an adjunct for 15 years, so I know that the longer one adjuncts, the longer one will adjunct. Full stop.
I began chatting about Maren’s findings with a friend who recently got a tenure-track position in English at a Public Regional Comprehensive University in the Midwest. He has experience at R2’s and a SLAC. We started trading stories of good, bad, and mythical job advice we’d received over the years, and he agreed to write this piece.
Consider it an informational interview with a new assistant professor telling you what others either can’t or won’t tell you: the academic job market is a mess. Sometimes, even it doesn’t know what the hell it wants.
Addressing the Myths
Assistant Professor of English
I. Things that Hurt
Let’s start with the hurt. Because we are generally in closest contact with our professors and advisors, we seek their advice on the job market. While this is not necessarily a bad thing (you’ll get stories from their own interviews), it can be somewhat damaging to first-time job seekers. Remember, most of your professors secured their tenure-track appointments a decade or more ago. While this does not automatically disqualify them from advising you, it certainly puts them at a disadvantage.
There had not been a TT literature hire in my department for years, and most of the faculty had been there for well over fifteen years. Take advice from people in this position with a grain of salt. I was lucky to have advisors and professors who knew their stuff when it came to the market. They did research (like I did), they asked important and difficult questions regarding standards (like I did), and they recommended better advice than they could give in the form of books, articles, websites, blogs, etc. My team knew their own shortcomings and told me to seek out as much information as possible, whether it aligned with their notions or not. This was crucial, and I know that it does not happen everywhere.
However, the bottom line is pretty simple: your advisors will have no freaking clue about the current job market. And how can you blame them? Even if they were hired in the early 2000s, the market has shifted significantly in the last sixteen years. It’s not their fault. But it is their fault when advisors dispense advice as God’s word: “This is how you get a job. It’s how I did it and it’s how you will do it.”
You need to do your homework. This job means the most to you, not your advisor. Their job is secured. Although they might really, really like you, this doesn’t mean a damn thing once the market opens.
Take ownership of your teaching, research, service, and hard work. You aren’t a grad student anymore; you’re a professional trying to procure employment. Dictatorial advisors (thankfully mine wasn’t one) fail to see you as a non-student. To them, you will always be their student, just like parents always see their children as children. Break away from that dynamic by seeking as much advice as you can. Talk to a diverse set of folks. This might mean you have to find new people. Get to it.
During my two years on the job market, I heard good and bad advice. Below are some of the myths surrounding academic job searches, followed by my thoughts on why they need to be broken. A lot of these ideas are generalities that were at some point discussed between me and either colleagues, advisors, professors, or friends.
As with any personal narrative, my experience does not (and will not) necessarily relate to every prospective job seeker. My comments are based on my own experiences, as well as my own research into the system. Take from my advice what you will.
Myth #1: Ease your way into the market during your first attempt. Only apply to your dream jobs, and spend the rest of your time focused on your dissertation.
No. No. No. No. No. No.
How do you expect to get hired if you do not get onto the job market in full force? This isn’t child’s play. This is your goddamn life. Your profession does not wait for you to come around. You have to attack the market. Attack is the best way to describe it. Easing your way into the market only prolongs an already protracted process. Realize that when you decide to apply for jobs, you may be sending out applications from September through June.
Some good advice: This is a numbers game. You don’t stand a chance for any position if you do not apply. If someone tells you to take it easy on the market during year one, tell them you cannot wait around. This is too damned important.
And, if you are worried about time to complete your dissertation, get a full draft done prior to the market opening. I wrote a 350-page dissertation in nine months. Revisions take time, but the first draft takes the most out of you. Finish a draft over the summer, and get to those applications when September hits. If your director is not prompting you to get it written in a timely fashion, then maybe you should reconsider their role as your director.
The national average for PhD-seeking student completion is 5-7 years. If possible, you should be done in four. Four. It won’t be easy. Some good advice: a good dissertation is a done dissertation. I wrote three days a week for eight hours a day from May through August. A 320-page draft came out of that writing schedule. It can be done, and your dissertation should not keep you from applying to jobs.
Myth #2: You only need one peer-reviewed publication in a good journal to be considered an effective scholar.
I’m not going to say that you won’t be hired if you have one (or none), but unless you are a PhD candidate at an Ivy League or a top-tier R1, you’d better have an impressive research profile. By impressive I mean quality, not quantity. On day one, my director told me that “publishing is the essential act of scholarship.” This is absolutely true.
When I entered the job market in my fourth year, I had published two peer-reviewed journal articles, with three forthcoming peer-reviewed articles or book chapters. All were in my field, with one of the two journal articles in the field’s primary journal. I built on this resume in year two (with a postdoc I secured in year one based in part on my publishing background). If you have publishable work, get it published in a decent journal when you can.
Some good advice: I had my first peer-reviewed article accepted by the beginning of year two. The earlier you start honing your writing for publication the better. Most applicants have more than one peer-reviewed publication, chiefly because the market has changed since the above advice made sense. I applied to a job at a SLAC in a subfield, rather than a major field, in year two. There were 400 applicants…for a specialty position at a SLAC. Don’t think that publications had nothing to do with weeding out potential candidates. Your job is to get to the second pile. Publications can help you get there.
Myth #3: When applying to teaching institutions (jobs that require a 4/4 or 5/5 teaching load), downplay your research profile.
Interestingly, a study by the Lilli Research Group, which surveyed the job market for non-STEM fields between 2013-14, noted that, regardless of institution, 70% of TT jobs were going to applicants from R1 schools. That’s a lot of prestigious researchers taking jobs at sub-R2 schools, where teaching is more of a focus than research.
Never downplay your research profile. Own it. Don’t go on and on about your dissertation in your cover letter, but also don’t pretend you don’t research, don’t have aims to publish articles and books, and won’t use your research as a teacher. For teaching institutions (4/4 loads or more), always connect your research to your teaching. If that can be done well, committees will appreciate your ability to make them work together. Connect research and teaching, but certainly do not deny your research its place in your profile. That work took a lot of labor and time. Honor it.
Myth #4: ABD students (All But Dissertation) do not get hired at the same rate they used to, so don’t bother applying too heavily.
In the same study, the Lilli Research Group found the majority of TT jobs go to ABD applicants. This came as a surprise to me, since I always thought that ABDs would not fare well on the market. A myth I wholeheartedly believed was busted by reliable data. Trust the data. And this goes back to Myth #1 regarding taking it easy in year one. Do not ever take it easy. Go for it as soon as you can. I suggest you watch the video the Lilli Research Group put together.
Myth #5: “If I don’t get hired at an R1 or R2, I’ll settle for a job at a nice liberal arts college or a community college if I’m really desperate.”
You can think that all you want, but you’ll be wrong. SLACs and CCs are just as competitive as R1s and R2s when it comes to hiring tenure-line professors. And even worse: if you think that throwing out some half-assed applications to CCs “just in case” will get you hired, you’re wrong again. CCs can sniff out a jumper (someone who plans on leaving as soon as another job comes up). CCs will not hire you if you come off as anything but CC material. That means you have to carefully tailor your materials to the institution you’re applying to.
Don’t get me started on SLACs. I don’t know where the myth came from that a SLAC job—almost always teaching focused—is somehow “easier” to secure than others. Wrong. Private schools are extremely discriminating because they can be. Most have mission statements, and if it is religious-affiliated, then there is usually something relatable to that college’s specific religious mission involved with your application. My postdoc was at a SLAC, and it was not an easy job to get. Departments are small or combined with others, most SLACs are feeling the crunch of reduced budgets, and some have even begun retrenching (firing faculty on the tenure track). Take CCs and SLACs seriously, and do not ever think they can serve you as backups. You’ll be sorely disappointed.
Myth #6: Spend more time on applications for jobs in your specialty, especially R1 & R2 apps.
Again, if you haven’t picked up on my theme yet, you will now. Every application you send out should be treated equally. Knowing that the chances of securing an R1 or R2 job are slim to none (for those graduating outside the Ivy League or top R1s), do not overdo those apps. Do them well, and work hard at them, but treat those apps to public comps, SLACs, and CCs with respect. Chances are, that is where you will end up, so get used to researching those schools, faculties, and communities.
Myth #7: Schools pick the “best” candidates for their TT positions.
No. They. Don’t. They pick candidates that fit.
Most departments are afraid of hiring the best candidates because they may one day surpass them in terms of prestige or merit. Committees are a fickle bunch, and hiring mediocrity with a decent pedigree (like a Harvard degree…yes, mediocre people come out of R1 schools. Someone’s got to be at the bottom of the class don’t they?) makes them look good, makes them feel good, and keeps the status quo humming along. The sooner you divorce yourself from this fantasy the better.
Fit matters, not your merits. You have to fit into that department. This could mean anything from studying the right field or author, to understanding the mission of the college, to just getting a good look that day. With hundreds of applications to be gone through, most committees look for anything that stands out. I got my job at my current institution, I believe, because I actually taught a course in the specific discipline they were hiring for. That small detail separated me from the pack. You never know, so apply with an open mind and realistic expectations.
Myth #8: “I can just adjunct for a couple of years until a job comes along.”
Joe Fruscione, my good friend, will tell you this is absolutely hogwash. The Lilli study showed that most (if not all) jobs went to applicants in either their first or second year on the market. That means that, after year two, your chances of getting a job reduce dramatically. When I started my search, my spouse and I decided that we would give it two years. If no meaningful employment (which my spouse meant as TT) came about, then something else would have to be done. Because of institutional biases, adjuncts literally adjunct themselves out of TT consideration.
Is it ageism? Yes.
Is it elitism? Yes.
Is the system built on merit? No.
Do schools see adjuncts for TT jobs as damaged goods? Yes. Joe can back me up on this one. After a decade of adjuncting and applying to jobs, he courageously walked away from the academy. I respect him for it, and I am glad it didn’t come to that with me.
Unlike most, I never adjuncted. Not once. If you can avoid adjuncting immediately after your doctorate, avoid it. It’s the kiss of death.
Myth #9: “If I don’t get a job this cycle that’s okay. My department will offer me some kind of position to help me out.”
After finishing my PhD, and prior to interviewing for and accepting my postdoc at a SLAC, I hoped my institution would offer me something like an associate lectureship. Instead, the best they could do was put me in a pool for adjuncting, with a 3 class limit should I be brought in. That would have amounted to less than $8,000 for the semester, were I to get a full load. I find in speaking with colleagues that this is true for most institutions. They educate you, then they cut you loose. It’s business. Again, is this the fault of departments? Not necessarily. They have to operate under the restraints of their college or university. Budgets are tight, folks. Don’t expect anything to get handed to you just because you graduated from that school.
Myth #10: “I deserve a tenure-track job, so I’ll get one.”
No you don’t, and you probably won’t. Depressing and cynical, I know, but it’s honest and realistic.
I applied to 275 jobs over a two-year span. That’s right, 275. It was 165 in year one and 110 in year two. Year one (ABD): I received one interview (for a postdoc at a SLAC, which I was eventually offered) and an interview request for a lectureship at a public comp once my postdoc had already begun. That equals out to 163 rejections, two interviews, and one position. Both interviews came almost nine months after the market had opened. Year two (postdoc): I received one TT campus interview (public comp where I currently work), one alt-ac interview (finalist), one continuing contract campus interview for a private school (finalist), a Skype interview for an NTT visiting position at a public comp, and three additional NTT or visiting interview requests I turned down after accepting my current position. That equals out to 103 rejections, seven interviews, two campus interviews, one TT position. I saw a remarkable increase in action in my second year, which I initially attributed to having “PhD” rather than “ABD” after my name. I was wrong.
I believe that I got my current job because of several factors:
III. Things that Help
The help is also important. You are currently in a community of writers, teachers, scholars, and (hopefully) friends. Get them to read your materials. Have them comment on structure, formatting, and content. If your chair is also on your dissertation committee, talk their ears off about job searches and hiring cycles your university has done. What did they look for? Why did they hire certain professors?
Seek out junior faculty members, especially those that recently navigated the job market. Get their materials, notes, and advice. These were the most helpful moments of my search in year one. Once you leave their halls, communication generally lessens, even if you forge great relationships with your committee like I did.
Take advantage of your environment. But the myths I outlined above would’ve been the most helpful notions to discuss when I started my search. These nine myths all reared their ugly heads at some point in my search. Knowing the information surrounding them and what to do with that information would have greatly benefitted my first year. In fact, in year two I applied a lot of the busted myths to my work, which led (eventually) to my current job.
Knowing the terrain, trusting the data, and seeking out actual productive advice will get you a lot further than if you just listen to your director, who got hired in 1995 when you still had to mail in every application.
My narrative is not the norm, I assure you. I am lucky…and that’s the damnedest thing. LUCK has just as much to do with your search as skill. Figuring out what’s useful, what’s harmful, and what’s mythical will go a long way in making that luck count at the right moment.
I’m always happy to run guest posts about relevant aspects of academia and adjunct life. Comment below or find me on Twitter.
In honor of the ghosts circling around us this time of the year and it being Campus Equity Week, albeit low key as we ramp up for 2017, Bri Bolin writes a post-ack column about her movement through adjuncting and the wisdom she has from organizing inside and out of unions. She’s a brave woman in her outspokenness and in sharing her important story early on in mainstream media. Check out the links in her bio below after you read this her great contribution to our growing collection on this site.
Bri Bolin is a co-founder of PrecariCorps, a 501(c)(3) offering much-needed financial, emotional, and professional support to adjunct faculty. She worked as an adjunct for 11 years, organized for the last five, and earned her post-ac credentials in May 2016. She will receive her M.S. in Speech-Language Pathology in May 2018. You can read more about her journey…
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Last week, I shared some thoughts and memories about conference life before I made the trip.
It was…fine. I saw some old friends I didn’t expect to see, and it felt a bit like a vacation. (First time away from my son in 13 months….) No one made any critical or tone-deaf comments about me missing academia or being ready to go back to adjuncting, and I saw only kindness, no cruelty. A retired professor whom I like and respect tremendously said I seem a lot more happy, confident, and loose since he last saw me. I agreed: I’m all those things, plus more optimistic and fulfilled about my current career.
I used to get back from a scholarly conference in a flurry of excitement about new ideas, plans for collaborating with new colleagues, notes and papers filled with good things, and hopes to catch up on teaching or writing work…along with some concern about the debt I’d accrued as an unfunded adjunct. The pay-to-play system became unsustainable for me.
This time, things were different. I enjoyed being an observer–outlier among established and hopeful academics. There was no pressure to sit through panels so Professor Big Deal would see me, hear my compelling question, and remember me when I applied for a job. I didn’t have to fake being busy or otherwise occupied to miss an undesirable panel. I had fun and felt relaxed the whole time. On the middle day, I relaxed, had lunch with a Twitter friend, and went to a comic book store before attending an art show the conference had organized.
The interactive portion of my talk went well. I essentially did the Q&A portion in the middle, but I reversed the flow: I Q’d and they A’d. I asked them to share what’s next in researching and teaching Faulkner and Hemingway, as well as what their professional experiences have been in teaching writers whose reputations very much proceed them. (Sometimes for better, sometimes for worse.) To those who had read my book I asked what they felt was left out, underanalyzed, or questionable. “I can take it,” I assured them, “Say whatever you want.”
Younger and older scholars enjoyed the interactive interlude, and 10-11 people shared their ideas for new research and teaching approaches. Afterwards, a new assistant professor thanked me for doing it because “People don’t always ask what us younger scholars are doing.” There was a nice mix of older and younger scholars, MA students, undergraduates, and the general public there. About 120 people total…and hopefully some good book sales afterwards.
On the last day of the conference, I arranged an open discussion with graduate students, adjuncts, and anyone else interested in talking about academic and alt-/post-ac careers. Six people showed up: 2 older adjuncts, 3 graduate students, and 1 undergraduate who was thinking about whether to pursue a PhD in English. I directed them to this piece I wrote May for the Beyond the Professoriate conference Jennifer Polk and Maren Wood created. It was a good, eye-opening conversation. One of the graduate students didn’t know if she had the energy or desire to go for a PhD after finishing her MA; she was grateful I helped validate her feeling that she didn’t have to keep going and force it. We discussed academia, adjuncting, different career options, social media, networking, and which kinds of academics to ignore and which to heed when seeking career advice. I tried to give them the kinds of frank, open advice I never got when I was a graduate student and fresh adjunct. Part of my post-ac role is helping younger scholars and adjuncts avoid the traps I fell into: e.g., hanging on to the hope that a department will promote you, adding labor to gain experience and favors to boost your CV, or taking job advice from someone who hasn’t been on the market in 10+ years. I’d love to see more academic conferences devote time and resources to sessions on professional development, networking, and career options. Who’s willing to make this happen—regularly and meaningfully? Scholars in various fields have to take initiative to educate and support each other at such professional meetings.
It was a great experience to visit academia for a few days but have a definite exit time. I have no idea when I’ll go to another scholarly conference. Maybe never. I’ve been invited to others, but there’s been no professional reason (or funding) for me to go. Some former colleagues have meant well when inviting me to attend or participate in a conference, but “It’d be nice to see you” isn’t enough of a reason to travel across the country, spend money needlessly, and disrupt our childcare routine. Some academics—particularly those who’ve had FT jobs for over a decade—might never understand my decision to leave academia permanently. The most awkward response I got to my career change was from the Dean who attended my talk. “Hmmm, interesting…” was all he could say.
Hmmm, interesting indeed.
Later this week, I’ll be attending an academic conference for the first time in 2+ years. Since then, I’ve left academia for a career as a freelance editor and post-ac consultant. I’ll be giving the keynote at a conference at Southeast Missouri State University on a subject I wrote the book on—literally. Last year, a friend from Faulkner studies messaged me to say one of his colleagues had eyed me to give the keynote at a Faulkner–Hemingway conference. After verifying that the organizer didn’t care that I’m no longer an academic, I agreed. I had nothing to lose and—for once—full funding to make the trip. It sounded like a good way to network. It also sounded like a nice change of pace.
In the past, conferences meant financial and professional anxiety. How could I afford to go with little (or no) funding? Would this talk/roundtable/panel/whatever help me break out of the adjunct ranks? How would it look on my CV? Would I get one of those rambling “questions” during the Q & A? Would I make some strong connections and network my way to a full-time professorship? How much debt was worth it for this?
Now, though, things have changed. Because I’m a stay-at-home dad, my biggest concern for the conference was how we’d handle childcare. (It’s handled. Thanks, mom & dad.) I’m looking forward to the conference as a chance to share what I know and meet potential editing clients. Always Be Connecting, after all.
I’m also expecting to—big gasp—have fun. I enjoyed writing the keynote because there’s no pressure or worry about offending someone who might be on a hiring committee some day, or whose work I didn’t mention <eyeroll>. I enjoyed showing off what I know about the writers, as well as not having the pressure to give one of those State Of The Field talks. It’s not my job anymore to (try to) take a field in new directions.
I based the talk on one I gave in 2012, but I added an interactive section in the middle asking the audience to share what’s next in the field. I’m also asking the audience about their teaching, researching, and larger professional experiences with Faulkner and Hemingway. We’ve all experienced those long-winded, self-indulgent keynotes, and I wasn’t about to subject my audience to 45 minutes of something they can read in my book. I know it can be hard for academics—especially younger ones—to jump into a discussion and admit their struggles, concerns, or lack of knowledge. I’m curious to see how this goes…and whether the audience will jump in as eagerly as I want them to.
Like all conference-going academics, I’ve seen my fair share of kindness and cruelty when scholars get together. At my second conference (July 1999) a senior scholar bought me a glass of wine and genuinely asked about my research. A few years later, another senior scholar in the same subfield about threw a hissy fit when a graduate student didn’t reference his book in an MLA talk. His comment during the Q & A was awkward, cruel, and forgettable. I’ll never forget either instance. Nor will I forget all the rambling, pay-attention-to-me “questions” from many other scholars.
I’m eager to see what happens when I go. I won’t quite be the fox in the henhouse, but I’ll definitely be the outlier among established, emerging, and hopeful academics. If anything, I’m an independent scholar, and those aren’t always welcomed as eagerly at conferences as affiliated or pedigreed ones. Selfishly, I want some new editing clients. Ethically, I’ll do whatever I can to show graduate students and adjuncts that there are other career options besides academia.
Time will tell. Next stop, Cape Girardeau, Missouri.
This summer, the university where I teach has seen fit to form a Task Force (caps both necessary and utterly not) on the teaching of writing. Some professors “up the chain” in other departments feel dissatisfied with the quality of writing they get from students who have completed at least one semester of the required first-year writing courses. I couldn’t agree more with their dissatisfaction, yet I couldn’t agree less with their methods of trying to remedy it. The way this has come to pass feels more like shit rolling downhill than any authentic attempt at improvement, an Internal Affairs inquiry when what we need is actual professional collaboration.
The formation of the Task Force represents how much the university cares about writing across the curriculum and in all fields, ostensibly. So let’s take a look at the evidence of that care and reflection, shall we?
The university cares so…
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Freelancing and Entrepreneurship
Beyond the Professoriate, 5/7/16
To answer those of you who mentioned in the survey that you wanted to know whether there’s life outside academia, here’s my answer: yes. Resoundingly, confidently: yes. A very good life, in fact.
I left academia in 2014 after 15 years teaching literature and first-year writing. I had a lot to say about adjuncting and why I left. I knew I’d never go back to academia, so I wanted to speak for myself and the other adjuncts who couldn’t be as blunt or critical. I’d been an adjunct too long to ever be anything but an adjunct, and I was done with the dead-endedness and false hope. For anyone still in academia and searching for full-time jobs, be careful about adjuncting or stringing together post-docs or visiting positions: often, the longer you do these, the less hireable you are for full-time positions. Academia typically doesn’t reward experience for those in precarious positions. Don’t expect it to reward all those years you’ve taught or publications you’ve done.
Professionally and personally, it’s been a productive two years for me. The biggest change I’ve seen since switching careers is that I’m rewarded for my growing experience as a freelance editor and consultant—both financially (in terms of what I can charge my clients) and professionally (in terms of the respect and appreciation I get from them). Some other refreshing changes I’ve experienced in the private sector are:
I draw on my skills as a researcher, writer, and teacher all the time—sometimes in unexpected ways. My teaching experience has helped me on some developmental editing projects for graduate students: we worked through several versions of a thesis or article. I’ve also been chosen to edit some business, religious history, and government documents specifically because I was an educated non-specialist, and the clients wanted an objective look at the writing. If, like I did when I left, you’re trying to establish yourself as a freelance editor, remember that “editing” entails different kinds of work (not just correcting grammar) and that your current academic interests might influence but won’t necessarily determine your worth as a freelancer.
I’ll talk about three main areas that will help you get started (or learn more about) freelancing as an alt-ac or post-ac: transitioning, connecting, and working.
Remember: there’s a good life waiting for you outside academia.
Someone else asked in the survey about how to extinguish the inner struggle or disappointment of not becoming a professor. To this, I’d tell you to look at what’s still happening to higher ed in America and Canada: increasing adjunctification, assaults on tenure and academic freedom, neoliberal and corporate “rebranding” <shudder> of education, increasing austerity measures, legislative interference, and corruption. If your only academic future is adjuncting or a series of post-docs or VAPs in a broken system, you’re doing yourself a favor by leaving.
As a freelancer, entrepreneur, or something else in a non-academic setting, you’ll be in a field with more growth potential, emotional healthiness, and room for negotiation. You’ll also be rewarded for your experience, which will be a refreshing change in the new life you’ll certainly have outside academia.