By now, those of you who regularly read this blog have ascertained that I will be entering academe professionally in a few months. Based upon my obsessive reading of higher education news, I understand that this is an enviable position. Many (though not all) doctoral students across the country are jumping through the seemingly endless string of hoops in pursuit of this objective. Recently, I was reminded to count my blessings, as I met still unemployed peers in my field who applied for the job I accepted. As a result of these messages and encounters, the feeling I have going into this job is entirely unique. There is enormous pressure surrounding a tenure-track faculty job, and little space to voice concern, worry, or even doubt.
I'm consciously creating space in this post to examine this phenomenon, at risk of receiving unsympathetic responses. As a preface, let me convey that I get it. I am lucky and have little reason to complain. I have a job, and there are others who will gladly take my place. Let me also say that I'm happy with my decision. Simply put, I can't imagine any other career for myself at the moment, and part of me is overwhelmed by the sense of anticipation and excitement. However, another other part of me is ridiculously nervous and concerned. One reason for this is that, despite working in an office of faculty affairs, researching the academic profession, and interacting with countless professors, I still don't know everything about the job I am starting.
I heard from a colleague that, in his first year, he thought he knew what it meant to be a professor and what the job entailed. But he soon discovered that he didn't know the half of it and faced a steep learning curve. It is always the case that we jump into new careers without fully knowing what we are doing, or if we will like it. Many people would respond to this scenario by saying, "You don't know until you try!" and "You'll just have to see how it goes." I have found, nevertheless, that this sentiment of "give it a try" is rarely applied to academic positions. The assumption seems to be that this is a natural extension of graduate school, and you should already have experienced it and evaluated your feelings. Guess what? That type of certainty eludes me, and I fully intend to approach this job with the mentality that, if it isn't a good fit, I can seek employment elsewhere. This may be dangerous thinking, but I have taken to heart an idea I read the other day: "it's tenure-track, not tenure-trapped."
Another source of some worry is that I'll be moving a different type of institution. I have been at my current university for close to 7 years. I know its inner workings, and I know where to locate resources. I have friends here and a support network. Beyond questions of familiarity, moving to a new institution has other implications. I was trained at a research university. For the past year, I have processed dossiers at my institution and understood tenure largely through the lens of research productivity. In other words, the place where I have trained and learned about the academic profession has not necessarily prepared me for the expectations of professors at my new institution. I will be evaluated at my new university based upon my teaching performance first, followed by my research. Although I have been told that my new institution, like many comprehensive universities, is creeping towards a research-oriented mission, I have concerns that I am socialized for faculty work at a research university.
Now that my dissertation is complete, the pressure of my pending position has already started to bubble up. Although I recognize that I should take a break and enjoy life while I can, there is a voice in the back of my mind telling me to start working on publications, tweaking syllabi, and building a public presence through social media. After all, many people have told me that the first year is insanely busy, so why not take advantage of the time I have this summer and be productive? The issue with this is that, honestly, my brain could probably use a break. I'm also not currently being paid to work on publications or courses. This has never really stopped me from producing in the past, but it causes me to worry at this early stage that I'm already burdened by a tenure monkey on my back. And it's not just tenure-related pressure. I want to do well, like my advisers and the hot-shots in my field. Taking a break is, perhaps, a luxury.
Which leaves me with one more thought. I've been harboring some doubt about whether a job where taking a break seems like a luxury is a good thing, worthy of such celebration. Faculty work is prestige-driven and can be competitive. I realize other jobs have their disadvantages, but I sense that I am beginning a career that is renowned for its stress, isolation, high divorce rate, and propensity for "breaking" people. And that's scary.
I have no doubt that I can adjust, learn the ropes, and figure out some semblance of balance in the coming years. Alternatively, my faculty life may be a complete disaster and end quickly. I suppose what I'm proposing is that we ensure the narrative about tenure-track jobs doesn't stifle expressions of concern or possibilities for failure. We may be fortunate to have jobs, and we may think we know what have jumped into, but those of us with job offers still confront anxiety-producing unknowns.
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