Kristin and I started our tenure-trackness in the same way—waiting three long weeks for the overdue moving trucks to show up with our furniture. (So it went with Houghton-inspired movers.) Beyond that, the similarities with starting any new job involved huge emotional transitions, not just wondering whether we’d have to sleep on the floor or eat Taco Bell for one more day. (Note that Jeff, Kristin’s husband, would never allow Taco Bell in the house. That’s my predilection when frustrated and without pots and pans.) In Kristin’s introduction, she found herself asking three questions about the transition into her first semester of tenure-track life:
It’s been three years since I started my tenure-track job, and although our questions were similar, I have been on the job long enough to have found a few answers that satisfy me.
Our graduate-student community becomes our new-faculty community. I was lucky that three other new PhDs were hired in my department the year I came in, one of whom was also a technorhetorician. That, coupled with the new faculty in other departments, whom we saw often at the many socials the university planned for us, and I had a built-in socializing group. They aren’t all comp/rhet folks, but that helps me to branch out.
As to free time…My first year out was an anomaly—I was actually less busy than I had been as a graduate student. I owe that oddness to the administrative work I did as a grad student such as helping with CIWIC and Computers and Composition compared to my first year out when I was protected from major service work (although that was soon to change). Because of that difference, my luxury of thinking-time also increased a little when I became a faculty member. That’s not to say that I had it easy then or now. My first year was incredibly stressful due to the adjustment of being in a new place with new rules and expectations, new social situations, and new kinds of students to teach.
At Computers and Writing 2006, in Lubbock, Anthony Atkins, Heather McGovern, Jennifer Bowie, and I presented a roundtable about our first years out of school and in tenure-track jobs. There were horror stories and funny stories, during which I told about my first semester of teaching. Assigned a 5-day-a-week teaching schedule in an over-enrolled computer-assisted classroom that lacked the technologies I needed to support the instruction the department had hired me to teach, I went home every day on the verge of tears. Everything that could have gone wrong, went wrong. The only saving grace that term was that us four new hires would go to the bar every Friday afternoon and share complaints, trying to figure out the system. Of course, things got better (the department got more technology) and settled down and academic life became more routine. Over the next two years, while I experienced conflicts, snafus, and temporary meltdowns, I’ve managed to make the following two lists for myself—rules of thumb that keep me happy and working and playing and loving what I do. They won’t suffice for everyone’s needs, but I hope they might offer emotional support for those of you trying to figure out the craziness of tenure-track life.
Cheryl’s Time Management Top Tens
1. Find where you work best and go there. I work best at home, and my department doesn’t require 5-day-a-week face-time at school (see more about face-time below), so I stay home and work as much as possible. After having a computer on a crappy desk in my living room in Houghton, I realized I needed a space separate from my living area in which to do my work. So, my home office is now located in a loft in my condo; it’s separate from the rest of the house and some days I don’t even have to go up there, which means I can walk by the stairs and not even think about work. (lol)
2. Set up a routine. I always check my email first thing in the morning. It takes about an hour, but then I can get going on the rest of the work I have planned for that day. (And I always have a plan for the day because I’m Type-A and I need one or I can’t get out of bed in the morning.)
3. Know (or decide on) your priorities. I decided a few years ago that editing the CoverWeb section of Kairos was near the top of my priority list. With my recent promotion to Editor, Kairos is definitely at the top of the list. Some folks will tell you it’s stupid to prioritize editing work (or service work or administrative work, or however they want to label it), but the key for me is to be able to justify (in my tenure binder) how editing others’ scholarship is an original scholarly act in itself. I also intend to publish about my editing work. So, editing can (and should) be considered research. For others, insert WPA work or lab management here. If you do administrative work as a junior faculty member, you have a lot of explaining to do in your tenure binder, and it will seem tedious but it is fruitful work. Remember: Prioritize what you love and what you’re good at. Your senior colleagues (locally or not) can help you justify your choice(s) as long as you have the work to back it up.
btw, it was a surprise to me that I didn’t prioritize teaching. Mostly, I chose not to do this because in tenure situations, showing ‘excellence’ in teaching is extremely difficult to do. Check your institutional tenure guidelines to see how you have to show excellence (or the equivalent) in one area, but most often—even in schools that stress teaching—research is often what’s expected.
an afterthought: I’m embarrassed that I am putting this last, but it will probably explain lots of things about me. For some academics, their first priority is their family. And that’s as it should be. Don’t let other academics tell you that you *have* to do something that’s going to interfere with your family life. That’s crap. Prioritizing family just means that other things take less (or equal?) priority, and as long as you’re willing to accept that, then you’ll be happy. Me, I’m happy with Gizmo (see #8 below).
4. Keep calendars. I have one-month, six-month, and two-year calendars. (And, yes, I’m a freak.) I use the iCal feature on my Mac and color-code everything. Red is for Kairos; purple for research days (with specific articles to work on detailed on specific days); green for conferences and meetings there; etc. I even bought software to sync iCal with my Treo, which I bought only because it had a calendar feature – so no matter where I am, I can schedule a meeting. I know, it’s scary. But, gosh, I never forget a meeting anymore. (And it doubles as a travel alarm clock!) I also love my two-year, erasable wall calendar. I can see at a glance when I have to edit that special issue on classical rhetoric, a year away, so I can decide whether I have time to squeeze in another project between the two articles that are due next year.
5. Make to-do lists. Sure, this is similar to the calendars, but think locally—to-do lists are all about your daily schedule. I stock lined Post-Its and have them all over my desk. On especially stressful weeks, I clear my desk and line up a week’s worth of Post-Its, one for every day. The feeling of marking through a done item with a super-thick Sharpie can’t be beat for relieving stress. See how much you’ve accomplished today?!
6. Schedule non-school things. Use those calendars and to-do lists and literally schedule in appointment times for doing things that have nothing to do with school. For instance, I schedule time to go to the gym in my calendar. It’s not unusual that someone at school will try to schedule a meeting during the same time, but if you’ve already made plans to go to the gym, and it’s the only time you can go to the gym that day, the gym takes priority because it was scheduled first. Of course, I don’t usually tell my colleagues that I’m going to the gym—I tell them I have an appointment. Because, well, I do. I hate the gym, but I go at least three times a week and I’m pretty sure it’s why I haven’t cracked yet.
7. Schedule breaks. This is different than scheduling non-school things and is especially important if you tend to work uninterrupted, either at school or home. When at school, I schedule lunch with colleagues so I will make sure to leave my office and to eat something decent. When working at home, I tend to forget to get up and stretch. I also forget to shower until late in the day. I get distracted by the computer, damn the thing! Laundry is a great thing to schedule (if you have a washer/dryer at home). It’s an automatic break every 45 minutes. Or bake something. Or set the oven or egg timer. And don’t forget to shower. I’m a mid-day showerer when I work at home (I know, tmi, but…); it makes a great, relaxing break in the middle of the day.
8. Have a stopping time. I am amazed how many colleagues email me at 9pm or later. To me, that’s craziness. I work hard during the day, but I have to stop at 5pm or I go crazy. The night is my TV time (and my Gizmo-cat time – he requires a lap to sleep in for at least three hours a day). For some folks, this’ll be family time, shopping time, whatever. For me, it’s total vegness sitting in front of the tele watching the Gilmore Girls.
9. Know your limits. This mantra can relate to all sorts of things. For me, it relates to my differentiation between academic-year work schedules and summer work-schedules (as well as the whole stopping at 5pm rule). My work limits involve working seven days a week during the academic year. I know that’s something I am accustomed to and can handle emotionally. During the summers I try my darnedest to only work weekdays, although this is a new experiment and it failed this past summer when the Kairos promotion came through. But now that that transition is settled, next summer I hope to go back to the 5-day work week.
Another limit I set for myself is in regards to teaching, which I know I haven’t talked about a lot yet. Part of the reason for not talking about it so much is because I have an easy teaching load and my university expects me to be a good teacher but not necessarily an excellent one. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to be an excellent teacher—I do, and I get upset with myself when I’m not. However, with all the other tenure-track things occupying my time, I’ve learned to know my limits when teaching. For instance, I make sure to tell students that I am contracted to spend 10 hours per week on each class—including class meetings, office hours, and prep time. And I won’t spend more than 10 hours per week (unless it’s an unusually difficult new prep, especially for grad classes), and so I don’t expect them to either. That’s my teaching limit, and it keeps me sane and able to be an above-average teacher.
10. Learn to say no! I know, how many times have you heard this one?! But it’s so true. Since becoming a faculty member, I’ve had to say no to committee work, lab and writing program administration, some work with Kairos, irregular teaching assignments, and even several research/publication opportunities. As my tenure committee told me, “You just can’t do it all.” Remember that your ‘job’ in a tenure-track position is TO GET TENURE. Don’t do anything that doesn’t move you forward within that system. Of course, that’s just my advice. Others will say that you should do whatever you want, and that you just have to make it fit within your tenure narrative. Or, they’ll say, do it because you want to. That’s fine advice, too, and it’ll be your choice once the time comes to say no.
(At this point, Kristin is thinking I am long-winded. She’s right. Sorry.)
Cheryl’s Face Management Top Tens
Now that I’ve told you to stay home, stop serving on committees, and just get your work done, the opposite side of the coin is to make sure that your colleagues know who you are and find you to be a good colleague. Recently, the MLA came out with updated tenure guidelines suggestions for departments to adopt, and one of the hot-button issues was their recommendation that “collegiality” be taken out of the tenure equation. While I totally agree that none of our job performances should be judged based on how much Professor Crazy likes us (and there’s always a Professor Crazy!), these people are the ones you have to work with for the next six years, if not the rest of your academic career. (And, remember, if you move positions, you will need letters from some of them that account for your collegiality.) Playing nice and friendly usually doesn’t hurt, but as a new faculty member it’s often difficult to figure out ways to get your colleagues to know you and understand your work. Here are some tips I’ve found helpful.
1. Make yourself visible when at school. The best academic conversations happen when a colleague pops into my office, or I stop by his or hers. The same goes for being visible to students, who want to drop by your office for a pick-me-up chat. If no one’s stopping by your office, make a point to do so to them. Keep it brief if you’re unexpected. And if you have an especially overbearing or talkative colleague who stops by your office a little too frequently, the best trick to cut the conversation off without offending them is to get up, walk down the hallway, and close the conversation as you enter the bathroom. I learned that invaluable trick from Dickie Selfe after the many (many!) times I bugged him in his office at Michigan Tech. It took me a while to catch on, and after that I made sure to keep my visits brief.
2. Make your office visible. My first year out, I randomly chose (by straws, no less!) an office on the fourth floor of the English building. It was a nice, big office—kind of a dormer, with built-in bookshelves. But it was problematic because even though I was teaching (and, thus, at school) five days a week my first term, the fourth floor was an add-on to the building and the only other offices up there were occupied by masters students. The department office, lounge (with kitchen facilities), bathroom, copier, printer, and water fountain were all located on the second floor. There was no reason for any of my tenure-track colleagues to come to the fourth floor, and so they never dropped by my office and, thus, never saw me. (Nevermind that many of the faculty thought I was a graduate student my first year there, and the grad students wouldn’t talk to me. It was a lonely first term.) So I decided to give them a reason to visit my office—I advertised that I was having an “open house” for my office, with homemade poundcake and tea. After that event, colleagues would periodically go out of their way to pop in my office.
But, that wasn’t enough for me. Having your colleagues know you, and subsequently your work, is crucial when it comes to tenure, I thought. That, and taking on more responsibility in the computer lab on the first floor meant that I spent a lot of time far removed from the duties and conversations that were happening elsewhere in the department. After my first year, I requested an office change when one on the second (main) floor became available. Now, even when I’m at school twice or three times a week, my colleagues stop by, chat, interact, and generally just see me around (which makes them happy) more than when I was on campus five days a week upstairs. My students also drop by a lot more frequently.
3. Give your colleagues time to learn what your research is. As graduate students, all of our colleagues pretty much knew what we researched, or at least knew the general area of our scholarship based on who our major professors were. As new faculty, our colleagues usually have no clue—sometimes that comp/rhet is its own field, let alone that we might specialize in computers and composition or technical communication or new media or whatever. There’s many ways to help them learn, but I found that it took about a year before the department head would call me the “new media” person and actually kinda understand what that meant. Other faculty members followed suit. But the best way I helped them understand my work was to join the faculty research group. The first Monday of every month we gather at someone’s house and share in-progress articles to get feedback. (Don’t have a research group? Start one.) Now those folks send me grant applications and calls for papers in my field—even the Professor of southern women’s literature sends invitations for applicable research to me when she runs across them. And the research group helps me better understand their research. After all, it’s not all about me all the time.
4. Committee work is face time. Although I said earlier to say no to committee work, you will have to do some (or a lot). During my first year, I was protected from doing lots of committee work, but I also missed the opportunity that those meetings would have provided for me to get to better know my colleagues. Of course, being on a committee doesn’t mean you have to do all the work they assign. Do what you can. Don’t always be the sucker to volunteer.
5. Make your research visible. Like the research group I mentioned above, there are other ways to make your research visible to your colleagues, especially those who don’t attend the research group, etc. I have been slowly implementing a project called Explore the Door, in which I post all my current research projects on the door of my office. I am in the process of adding the brief tenure narratives that contextualize this work within my research agenda to each door-post. I also have a small dry-erase board (like those on college dorm doors) where colleagues can leave feedback about my work. On top of that, whenever I accomplish something ‘big’, like when I co-guest-edited two issues of Computers and Composition this past summer, I emailed the faculty listserv with the table of contents, in case they were interested in the cross-over possibilities to their work.
6. Know your tenure committee. Choosing or, rather, suggesting members for your tenure committee—if you have one—will make all the difference as to how smooth your tenure process goes. At my school, we ask for five colleagues to sit on our committee throughout the six years. They guide new faculty through the tenure process, meeting with us once (or more) a year. The first year, I picked whoever was handy who seemed mildly related to composition studies. By the second year, I tried to read/scan their work so I could better relate mine to what they would understand/expect. Now in my third year, my committee has changed significantly (due to people moving, retiring, and, sadly, dying, but also due to incompatibility with my research agenda). Remember that if you get to help choose your tenure committee, it is YOUR committee and you do have some control over how well things proceed. If someone on your committee is abusive, combative, or just plain stubborn, ask to have them replaced with someone more appropriate. Just don’t be willy-nilly about your decisions. In the end, you want a tenure chair who knows how to lead the committee and support you (it’s the same with your dissertation committee), and you need a committee who can get behind your work. In our field, that means make sure to consider whether your committee members are understanding of, or can be persuaded to be understanding of digital work.
7. Tell the department head when you’ve done something good. Cindy Selfe once told me that when she was department head, she noticed that people would only come to her office to complain. So, turning that around, make your department head’s day and pop in with good news for a change. In our department, we have a publicist whose job it is to update the website with such good news. Give that person something to do—even if it’s telling them about the $100 grant you won. That’s big news in an English department. I’ve found that telling my department head good things about my research or editing has meant that he asks me to work on important departmental projects that relate to my research. I recently won a $90,000 internal grant with a colleague because the Head knew it related to our research.
8. Know your department’s attitudes about face time. Some departments expect you to be at work, in your office with your door open, all day long, five days a week including summers. Thank goodness my department doesn’t. Some of my colleagues actually commute to work from Salt Lake City (1.5 hours away), coming in 2-3 days a week. That’s one reason why I work from home so much—as long as I show up for faculty meetings and committee meetings (the most important face-time moments!), they don’t really care how many days I’m at school. Last year I taught one online class and one f2f class, on Mondays. So I only came in Mondays. I had told the department head that this was my plan and he didn’t care. But, a colleague in a smaller department says she has to be in nearly every day or her colleagues start to ask where she is (as if one cannot accomplish work anywhere besides in their tiny offices…sigh). So, it’s individual to each school. Figure out your boundaries and push on them if they don’t fit your needs.
9. See and be seen by your colleagues at social functions. Go to the grad student parties, the poetry readings, the receptions, the job-talk dinners. Invite your colleagues to dinner, and make unusual pairings with groups of colleagues. Although that can be dangerous sometimes (talk to a senior colleague you trust to make sure you don’t invite two couples who hate each other), the combinations can be surprisingly delightful. Our college has what they call HASS Hours, for the Humanities, Arts, and Social Science College faculty members. Every month, we meet at a local restaurant and partake of a few along with heavy hors d’oeuvres while listening to one faculty member give a 10-minute, fun talk about their research. It’s a blast, and the face time is worth every bit of the $10 fee. The dean is always there, and I make sure to talk to him every month (although I’ve learned to do it early in the night, before my second glass of wine!).
10. Learn to say no! Yes, it must be repeated. Like I said earlier, your job is to get tenure, and if face time interferes with that, then don’t do it. Your tenure shouldn’t be judged on collegiality, whether you throw a good party, or if you can hold your liquor (but please don’t give them the opportunity to find out the latter). My second year here, my tenure committee recommended that I cut back on service work to focus more on research. I was on two national committees and was co-editing the CoverWeb at the time (which was counted as service until I made the argument otherwise). I was also serving on four departmental committees, chairing one of them, and acting as lab director. It was a LOT of service work, although being on four or five departmental or university committees isn’t unusual. Because I felt that I couldn’t drop out of my national service commitments, I removed myself from all the departmental committees, except the one I chaired. My colleagues were not happy with me, but it was my choice (right or wrong). Doing such a drastic thing didn’t win me any friends, but it helped me focus on my research, which was the point my committee had been trying to make.