One Year Down

In December, I wrote a brief reflection on the end of my first semester on the tenure track. And now here we are in early June, and I haven't written anything about my first year on the tenure track? That just seems wrong. But don't worry, dear sporadic readers of this sporadic blog, I've been thinking about it. Here are a few thoughts on what I've learned after my first year.

(Don't worry. That picture will make sense later. I'm just giving you incentive to keep reading.)

1. Not all problems have solutions
The bright-eyed, bushy-tailed assistant professor wants to do all the things from the first minute he or she walks in the door. Or at least, that's what I wanted.

"You have a problem? Let me solve it through my unique and winning combination of naivete and bewilderment! What could go wrong?"

Any program, department, or institution is going to have more problems than could ever be counted. And there are some that you will sense immediately that just can't be solved. Try to figure out what those problems are so you don't waste valuable time and energy (and good will among your initially amused colleagues) trying to change the world when you can't.

Hey, I'm not saying just throw up your hands and walk away from problems. Okay, so actually that's exactly what I'm saying. But remember, you have years ahead of you to deal with problems. (Spoiler: That last sentence will be featured in this list in just a few minutes. Stay tuned.) And you aren't the only force on Earth who wants to bring about change. So calm down, little guy. Take a deep breath. Then get back to your research.

2. Lots of problems do have solutions...but you might not be that solution
In fact, you could make things worse because you don't know what the hell is going on to begin with. These first two things on the list really add up to one important maxim: Sit down, shut up, and listen. You'll learn so much by observing as much as you can, whether in department meetings, university committees, administrative searches--the list goes on. Be a sponge. Soak in all that messy bureaucratic goodness and hush.


3. You can help out, you know.
Does that seem contradictory? Yeah.

You didn't get hired just to sit in your office and write the next great monograph on Emerson and death. Well, maybe some of you did. But even if you did, you're expected to do other stuff too. So while you're sitting there being quiet and being a sponge and such, understand that occasionally you're going to have to speak. People will want to hear what you think. Sometimes.

Good luck figuring out when you're supposed to speak up. I didn't say I mastered all these things.

4. Look for balance.
If you're being a good sponge and you're also locking yourself in your office to write that article or monograph and, somehow, you're still remembering to show up to teach your classes, you're doing great! You're also going to find that you're tired. That may be because all of this takes up a significant amount of time. So you need to look for balance.

First, you need to try to set boundaries to separate one part of your job from the other. Will these boundaries hold? Of course not! But unproductive blah will overflow your entire existence if you don't at least try to fight back the forces of chaos. Things I've started doing? Oh, you still think I'm telling you how to do this. Well, shut your office door. It's astonishing, but an academic's closed door is sort of like a cloaking device. "Huh. His door is closed. He must be on vacation in Bermuda, which is what I assume all professors do with the majority of their time." And the other, infinitely more important thing you can do: turn off the damn email. Just turn it off. Walk away. Email is the biggest time suck in your entire job unless you try to keep it under control. There's a little burst of happiness that comes with answering an email. Ignore the addiction. Get help. Remember back in grad school when you used to read books? Try doing that again. Maybe take up blogging.


Second, decide how you plan to distinguish the boundary between work and home. For me, those boundaries are strong. There's literally a state line between me and my office. When I cross that state line, I am off the clock. This is, of course, not entirely true. I will check email at home, despite what I just said in the last effing paragraph. I can also grade at home. But my home is inhabited that these small creatures whom I suspect I had some part in generating, and they tend to demand my time. And I want to give it to them. For many academics, this strong divide between work and home simply doesn't exist. So I would never urge someone else to adopt my model. Instead, think about how to strike a healthy balance between work and whatever not-work you have.

5. You've literally got the rest of your life.
I promised above that I was coming back to this one. The first year felt like it went by in a blur. I got some scholarly things done. A couple of publications, some serious drafting of articles after having to start over on them, a book review, a great conference presentation, and more conference presentation proposals accepted. I wish I had gotten more done, but I was productive. I did a pretty decent job teaching my classes if I do say so myself. I got involved with a number of ongoing projects in my department. In short, I did bunches. And I was generally good-natured about it, as were my colleagues. Not bad for a first year. Now I'm looking toward a summer that's dedicated to research and writing and a new year during which I will teach new classes (and a couple of repeats) and face new challenges. And I feel good about it because this is what I want to do. It's a lot of work, but it's work that I enjoy. Besides, I'm moving into an office with a window! A freaking window! All challenges are now surmountable! (Note to self: Reread 1 and 2.)

Now, this list could go on and on forever. I wanted to hit just some of the highlights that ultimately point toward a mentality about academic work. Yes, the tenure clock is going tick tock tick tock tick tock. Believe me, I hear it. But I'm making good progress toward that goal: I'm developing interesting projects and learning how to be a better, more efficient researcher. I'm accruing important teaching experience with accompanying strong evaluations. I'm building relationships throughout the university with cool people who have cool ideas. The way I see it, as long as I avoid developing a messiah complex and keep on working while remember occasionally that I have a family I like to hang out with, I'm doing okay.

That being said, I posted a little query to my writing group several weeks ago--see, I told you I've been thinking about this post for a while--also, 6. Get a writing group.--stop interrupted yourself, Jacob!--asking some colleagues at other institutions what they learned during their first year. Here, with apologies to my colleagues for not including everything and for inserting editorial comments at will, are some of their thoughts:

--Get used to being an "expert on X." This ain't grad school anymore, folks. That PhD behind your name means people expect you to know something.

--Say no to things. (HOW DID THIS NOT MAKE MY OWN LIST?)

--Write daily, even if that means you're just setting aside time to think about your writing.

--Make friends with colleagues, in and out of your department. Not only is this important because we are social creatures and we benefit from human interaction, but also because you learn more about your institution by talking with those who necessarily see it from different perspectives.

--Think of your research in terms of agendas, not in terms of single projects. Who do you want to be as a scholar? When people in your field say your name, what kind of work should they associate with it? (Personally, I'm hoping to launch an important research agenda based on the rhetoric of doughnuts. The research is going to be delicious.)

Finally, the most important thing I learned in my first year on the tenure track. I have so much more to learn. About my institution, my colleagues, my students, my research, my own scholarly habits, and so on. I finish my first year feeling mostly like I'm pretty sure I can probably drive to campus without possibly getting lost. I probably picked up a few more things too, but what can I say, I'm modest.

Hey readers, see that box down there below the text? Turns out, you can leave comments! Give it a shot. If you have something you'd add to this list, or if you want to tell me I'm dead wrong, go for it! I'd love to hear what y'all think about this. I'm especially interested in your thoughts on developing the Journal of Doughnuts. Or--and this is a crucial distinction--the Journal of Donuts.